Love Bites
by wolverinacullen
Summary: Belfry Prep, the prestegious art academy, is home to a diverse array of undead. From the young Irish lord Bram Devein to future business heiress Gory Fangtell, the extravagant lifestyles of the priviledged are about to be challenged by a changing world and a little rival school three thousand miles away.
1. Chapter One

**_Love Bites_**

_Chapter One_

The rhythm of the song caressing my eardrums feigned a heartbeat to set my breathing to. For about three minutes, give or take, I forgot I was in pain. My eyes were closed and the cold of the window under my temple managed to pierce my overlapping bangs. Just to see where we were, I opened them a crack and took in the familiar rain and gloom of the far Atlantic Northeast. It was strange how much I was looking forward to returning to Belfry Prep from the Middle West; it was the same at my family's home as it was at the school, only I had company and a bit more rest. It seemed like fate had timed its dealings perfectly, and my spring break at home had been in mourning. Even though it was only a week, it was the longest and busiest week of my life and the anticipation only built while the sleek, midnight coupe glided across the pavement along the winding roads. Maybe it was vain of me to think at the moment, but my relatives had paid little attention to my genuine grief and more to my father's standing in business. _Sympathy is going to win you hearts and deals, Stefano. You take every little bit they give you, no matter how little._ Grandpa's wisdom never ceased to amuse. My song repeated and I nudged out my phone to glance at the screen. No doubt Bram's flight from Ireland had long since landed. Under my gaze, the screen brightened with a new message and I tapped it to life.

_Beat you here._

The corner of my mouth twitched upward and I glanced to my father, removing an earbud to take notice of his face. He did not have the face of a man that had just lost his wife, he had the face of a parent about to drop their child off for an afternoon of school. The only difference was that, unlike a child, Belfry Prep was the place that we old, artistic souls sought out and were accepted to, and our parents accepted by the only default that we would spend ten to twelve months away from home during the year.

_How was Ireland?_ I replied, dropping my phone back in my bag and shifting to finally break the haze of half-sleep that had settled over my sentient mind. My father's carmine gaze darted to me before back to the road. I turned off my music to allow him to speak. When he didn't, I filled the silence, "How much longer?"

"Not far," he replied. My father had a voice like a dark chocolate truffle; deep, rich, lightly accented with Italian, under-toned with the bitterness of the old and wise and certainly an acquired taste. I had grown up with that voice murmuring sweet things to my mother while she cooked and cleaned and promising the both of us that we would one day have everything our hearts desired.  
The day had come. When someone suddenly gained everything, they realized how deeply they really wanted nothing. I produced my phone and zipped my purse in my luggage, waiting with it in my lap for my love's reply. I had taken two suitcases and a carry-on back to my family's home in Chicago. I had never been particularly close to possessions until they had settled there, perhaps because our constant travel prior had left little opportunity to be, but the modesty had left my father astounded. The reasoning behind driving me back to Belfry Prep instead of allowing me to take a plane still escaped me. We'd hardly spoken the entire trip.

"Dad..." I began, attempting to break the layers of thick ice that had formed between us the past few years at Belfry Prep, "Do you miss her?"

"It's only been nine days..." he replied. From his tone, I could hardly tell if he was about to confess that he was in utter agony or if he was about to tell me he hadn't had the time. When the letter had originally arrived, penned by his secretary, no less, I had assumed he was in the deepest throes of agony and had left at the earliest possible convenience. Seven days later, _I_ was the one in agony and he was the one that was likely eager to be running off to his life. I didn't speak after his reply; he could leave whatever he wanted unsaid. I would never forgive that kind of lacking compassion. The winding road finally straightened in the trees and I straightened, clutching my phone and my bag. My phone lit up in my hand.

_I'll tell you when you return. I miss you._

If he had any understanding to what I felt in my return, he didn't give it away in the slightest. Belfry Prep was like being off at college. The dormitories were co-ed, allowing Bram and I to share a luxurious apartment and function as independent individuals while attending the soirees of our flat-mates and classes in the huge, nearly feudal school building. Eventually, the road did give way to the huge, circular drive of the building and the subsequent off-paths to the dorm buildings. My father glanced to me and I gestured toward the middle-right path. He circled down to the colonial building, pulling up at the door. I glanced to him once, giving him the opportunity to voice anything he was afraid to leave unsaid, but he said nothing as he opened his seatbelt. I unclasped my own and rose into the brisk breeze. Upper Maine had a way of being frigid until May. I was already producing my bags from the trunk when my father had risen from the car.

The opening of the door drew my attention. My usually slow-paced heart kicked up a few beats, lifting as if it had been stabbed and was being soothed. Bram, tugging his jacket on over his black button-down shirt, broke into a bright, crooked smile of his own. He left the door propped open and dashed across the lawn.  
"Welcome home," he breathed, tugging me close and kissing me before I had time to speak. Against his lips, I beamed. I tucked my phone into my coat pocket and wrapped my arms around my boyfriend's neck, embracing him completely. His hands grazed my waist, arms slowly winding around my body until we were flush against each other. Kissing Bram this way might've been inappropriate considering our company, but even a week apart warranted a measure of celebration at our reunion.

"My mother missed you," he murmured, nuzzling me slightly.

"I missed her," I whispered, attempting not to choke on my breath. His fingers wound in my coat, clutching me as if the support of his body against my own would keep me together. I took several deep breaths of his clover-scented coat and ran my palm over his chest. He withdrew a hand to lace with mine, drawing my knuckles to his lips. "I'm so sorry," he breathed, ruby eyes radiating with agony that mirrored my own.  
Bram had met my mother once when she and my father had brought me to Belfry Prep and made the necessary arrangements. She'd been elegant, but there had been tears in her eyes. Bram's mother, Maggie, had taken my mother by the arm and promised her personally that he'd take care of me. Of course, neither of them had any idea just how deeply he'd commit to the promise and what would grow from it, but neither had we. It was as if he remembered my father's presence, as he turned and broke away only slightly, "Stefano."

"Abraham," he replied, "I trust you can get her bags upstairs?"

Bram's lips twitched up wryly. He let the hand he'd extended toward my father raise in a mocking salute, "Yes sir."

I broke away from my boyfriend against my will and crossed the gap to hug my father goodbye. He only wrapped his arms around me slightly, patting my back. It was like hugging ice; I didn't bother to say goodbye. Bram lifted my bags and flashed me a smile, "She sent food home with me. Apparently, death is no excuse not to eat like an Irishman."

My lips turned up again. The muted sun reflected off his golden hair with the power of a lantern in the pitch dark. The Devein family were as beautiful in soul as they were in body, a sentiment that I attempted to at least partially echo. He carried my luggage inside; I carried my carry-on and locked up after us. We passed the closed doors of our flat-mates before ascending the stairs and entering our home. He set my bags down just inside and turned to scoop me up before I reached the threshold. I squeaked, clinging onto his shoulder, "Must we do this every time?"

"Oh yes, we must," he replied, nudging the door shut behind us with his foot. He carried me to the sofa and perched on the edge. It still vaguely smelled of the lavender and vanilla lotion I'd left out the day I'd left, and from the look on his face he'd intended it to be that way. Warm, deep red furnishings provided more comfort than the contrived, elegant household I'd just left. I climbed off his lap to bury my face in his chest and wind my fingers in his shirt. Tempted to pepper kisses against his lovely collarbone, I pressed my face to his barely-exposed skin and whimpered.

"I missed you," I breathed. A few deep breaths and my chest felt as if it were fracturing. His elegant fingers caressed my cheek, brushing slowly across my jaw and tucking my hair behind my ear, "It's alright. You're home now." The truth of the statement stung. My fingers wound in his shirt and my heart did a painful clench. The tears I had been holding back for hours began their leaking descent from the corners of my eyes. Bram's arms supported me while I was wrapped in the safety of his embrace. He gently removed my glasses and set them on the table. The soft, soothing press of his face into my hair in an attempt to comfort me while I cried was more welcome than he anticipated. My bags remained untouched nearby while the wall of strength and refinement slowly came crumbling down.

In my world, you could never trust anyone with your true emotions. Bram Devein was the only one I trusted with mine.


	2. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two_

The sheets of our bed had been made warm and comfortable, and after an indulgent bath and a nap, the sun was low enough to wake others. I flitted back and forth from the laundry room with our clothes while Bram took care of the food his mother had sent along. Our music flowed softly from the sound system, aiding our nighttime awakening.

"How's your mother?" I asked while folding laundry and tucking it into the basket.

He chuckled, "Worried about you more than me, of course. She didn't even seem to notice Sean was home. If she'd had it her way, she would've called you every twenty minutes."

With things in order, I turned to carry the basket out of the laundry room and ran directly into him. He caught the edge of the basket before it could bounce off his abdomen, a slight, wry smile touching his lips, "Allow me."

I passed the basket off without a word, smiling in return. I'd attempted to clean up in the most mild sense of the word; my chest still ached enough to promise a prolonged recovery. Ivory silk pajamas had ended up my relaxation clothes of choice, black lace at the collar and hem of the shirt. I liked the bell sleeves and the bell cut around my ankles, it allowed freedom of movement. Using that freedom to my advantage, I checked dinner and, without regards to its temperature, began making a plate. My head was thrumming slightly, even after asprin. Behind my glasses, my eyes ached. I could've used a few more days of sleep, yet I kept my thoughts carefully guarded. The last thing I needed was to start thinking of Chicago now.

Trying not to think about it instantly promised that I would think about it. My mind wandered back to the gaudy silver casket with solid silver handles; it was lined with white, cushioned velvet. Apparently her sister had done her makeup. She'd looked as if she were asleep. I didn't think to ask once how she'd died, but I assumed it had been peacefully. She had a small smile on her features, that smile that she'd fallen asleep with quite a bit in my childhood, like she knew some kind of joke that no one else was enlightened to. Only this time, it was quite the cruel one. She'd looked beautiful.

Bram must've found it enjoyable to keep appearing behind me, as he did it again. His arms wound around me, cheek pressing against the side of my head, "How did he take it?"

I shrugged, lifting my plate and shifting back to the island, bringing him with me. Somehow the constant contact soothed the aching a little, "I saw him at one breakfast before the funeral. He's trying to be strong, but I don't buy a word of it." My father was an ambitious man, but he wasn't anywhere near as cold and distant as he had been. Bram released me to allow me to pull up one of the elegant stools and perch at the open countertop with my food. I rubbed my forehead, yawning deeply and openly. The breath allowed the scent of corned beef and all its lovely dressings to temporarily paralyze my senses. I took a stab at the thickly-sliced meat and cut off a piece.

"When was the last time you properly ate?" he murmured, rubbing the center of my back slowly and soothingly.

"Nine days ago," I replied before biting down. Still half-bloody, the meat provided an instant sating for two completely different hungers. If my eyes had any more room to tear, they would've. Dwelling thoughts kept popping up on everything from the way our old houses were decorated to their locations to the food she made to the conversations we'd had. And it ached. It wasn't the soul-stabbing pain that I'd experienced at the funeral, but it was rather close. Only the shrill interruption of the phone drew Bram's attention away from me and mine from my thoughts. "Devein residence," he answered on reflex. I smiled, especially when his expression grew exasperated, "Hello, Mother." He looked at me, listening before rolling his eyes, "Yes, the flight was fine. She's right here." He paused, placing the receiver against his shoulder, "Are you up for it?"

I put my fork down to extend a hand, taking a sip of water before it was placed in my palm. Before I even had the phone to my ear, I could hear laughter and shouting. "Hello, Mrs. Devein," I murmured.

"_Maggie!_ For the luv'a Mike, child, Maggie'll do just fine!" Speaking to Bram's mother, no matter the occasion, gave a person the feeling that she was present with them at the time. She had a voice as kind as she was. She was the kind of woman that enjoyed love, laughter, luxury and every indulgence she could get her hands on while also valuing hard work and struggle. Maggie Devein had proved to be an intuitive judge of character before, and I had never doubted her intuition since. She sighed, seeming to deflate as the sound faded away, "How are you doin', Gory? Bram takin' good care of you like I told him to?"

I smiled sadly, shifting the phone to grasp his hand, "He has been for three years, five months and two days, Maggie. If I haven't scared him off yet, he'll never leave."

He blushed. With his mother laughing in my ear and reassuring me that she didn't raise her sons that way, I stared into his eyes. They were mesmerizing and uplifting. Sometimes it felt like being in love with him was the only redeemable thing about my existence and his eyes always seemed to contradict that. When he looked at me, he was seeing so much more than I could see in myself. Probably just as I did for him. Love made things very precious.

"You'll tell me if you need anything, won't ya?" his mother asked. She'd probably been talking a lot more than I'd paid attention to. I nodded, then remembering I was on the phone, replied. "Of course, Maggie. Thank you so much for sending food with him too. I haven't had much time to get my head on straight yet."

"Take your time, darlin' girl, grief has to take its course." Never had truer words ever been spoken. I expressed my thanks and said my temporary goodbyes before handing the phone off to Bram once more. He took it gently from my hand and crossed behind me to perch on the stool beside mine. I cut large pieces of beef and ate with growing intensity. It wasn't long before he'd hung up and I'd managed to clean my plate. Someone turned on what I could imagine was very loud music from the lower level, but the solid floor drowned out most of it. Bram hung up the phone and regarded me in silence.

"I want to lay this all out right now, everything that's happened in the past nine days. For both of us."

I got up to put the dish in the sink, but he gently took it from me and did so for me. As he turned back, I brushed his golden bangs out of his eyes. His eyes fluttered lightly as my thumb brushed his cheekbone and my fingers grazed his soft skin. His hand rested over mine, a sigh of contentment slipping from his lips, "I love you, Gory."

I smiled lightly, raising slightly on my toes to kiss his lips, "I love you even more."

Beaming from the kiss, he withdrew slightly to grasp both of my hands in his. With the utmost gentility, he led me to the sofa and sunk into the soft velvet cushions at my side, "Well, for starters, within twenty minutes of getting off the plane, my brother and I got in a fistfight."

"Abraham Liam Devein!" I scolded playfully. He grinned childishly. "I won." I pushed his shoulder slightly, grinning as he took my hand and guided me a bit closer, "My father said the same thing. Mum was more pissed at Sean."  
"Of course she was," I replied, "He's older, he should know better."  
His fingers slowly traced my forearm upward, his gentle ruby eyes locked with my own. "It was rather uneventful after that. As I told you, my mother worried about you obsessively. Sean tried to report to her what the human university was like, but my father immediately went into this long speech about how we should be using humans for livestock instead of enhancing our knowledge. Sean was kind enough to point out that it's where the majority of books come from, or at least from monsters' human aliases. Nowadays we can never be sure. Everyone has a pen name." His hands had risen above my elbow, teasing my skin into shivers that ran up my spine and tensed my shoulders. He shifted closer, eyes sparkling teasingly, "And you've been on my mind every second, whether I'm asleep or awake. My mother is only half as worried about you as I am."

His sweet words were more of a reassurance than he'd ever know. I crawled closer, wrapping my arms around his neck and stealing a soft kiss, "Silly Bram...you know you don't need to worry about me."

He kissed me again, running a strong hand over my back, "I do. The thought of you in tears, with a broken heart...Gory, I simply couldn't live with that."

The pain in his eyes finally betrayed the true level of his worry. I pouted sweetly while curling into his embrace. "It hurts, it does...but I always have you."

His smile became slightly more wicked, his hold on my waist tightening slightly, "Care to tell me about your trip?"  
Our trains of thought must have crossed. I shook my head and kissed his lips softly once more in return, "If we're going to do any talking, I don't want it to be about sadness. It can wait."

We both glanced at the door before he murmured, "I locked up." Slowly, his eyes returned to me and I broke into a small, devious smile. My fingers ran over the collar of his shirt as a soft sigh escaped my lips, "Well...if it's not too much trouble."

He scooped me up wordlessly, allowing me a moment to tighten my hold, "Don't let go."


	3. Chapter Three

_Chapter Three_

Classes resumed at their norm the following late morning. Since Belfry Prep was a boarding school in technicality, we managed to get the perks that the general masses didn't, like sleeping in. It was well after noon when Bram and I started off to class. Awake, well-fed and protected from the slightly harmful rays of the sun, we crossed the wide, acre lawn to the main building. Our fingers were laced together, coats buttoned tightly and bags slung over our shoulders.

"Gory! Bram!"

We paused only a moment to allow Charles, our friend and flatmate, to catch up with us. Charles had a round, boyish face with a smattering of freckles peppered across his nose and high cheekbones. He had deep, almost purple eyes that seemed to only flash red in fading light and a mop of curly, dark chocolate brown hair. He was two hundred years old, turned at fourteen, and had nowhere else to be with human schools the way they were. For all intents and purposes, he was extended family. Quite a few vampires in our circle might as well have been. I removed my gloved hand from my coat pocket and opened my arm to allow him under it. He laughed, ducking against my side and snuggling in, "How was vacation?"

"Vacation," Bram scoffed, glancing to me. I smiled anyway, patting the bouncy gravity-defying curls of our younger companion's head. "It was a vacation, that was something." He continued with us until we reached the door of the theater, entering with us and seeming to remember just as he broke away, "Gory? I'm sorry about your mom."

I waved it off, keeping my composure for all of our sake, "It happens with age."

Bram's brows lifted. He fetched the door for me, voice hardly above a murmur, "Age?"

I shook my head. He knew as well as I did that the life expectancy of normal vampires was much longer than my mother's rather young six-hundred-fifty. Then again, I was among some of the elite; the people who were worthy of golf on the moors with the elder Lord Devein. By all intent, my blood wasn't as pure as theirs. It had never been a secret that my mother had been the sweetheart of my father's youth, and therefore when she had come of age, he had turned her with intentions to be together forever.  
It was better than most love stories, at least. They managed over six centuries together.

Bram's gentle hold guided me like a half-sleeping horse onto the stage. I beelined for a crevice filled with pillows and lined with carpet, clearly a set for something. Dropping to my backside, I brought him down to the floor with me. I slipped off the strap of my bag and tucked it under my coat against my side, nuzzling into his chest and caressing the silky white fabric of his shirt. It barely stood out against his alabaster skin. My fingers wandered upward, caressing his neck with slight brushes of my fingers against the front of his throat. He released a small sound of contentment, lightening my mood enough to press a small, red kiss to his neck below the collar of his shirt.

"Tempt me any further and you'll be in some serious trouble," he practically purred in my ear. His fingers traveled slowly up my spine. I shivered involuntarily, resting my cheek on his shoulder.

"Being quite the rebel, aren't we Bram?" Ruth teased as she crossed center-stage and jumped delicately off the apron.

"I forgot it wasn't casual Friday," he replied with a shrug. I smiled into his neck. His wit was never lost on me, no matter the circumstance. The rest of our class appeared like apparitions, fading in one at a time or in the occasional pair. A few of them walked up to the stage to offer their condolences while Tiffany and some of the elders, who had seen their fair shares of death, remained where they were. By the time class began, a great portion of us had nearly returned to our daylight slumbers. Our teacher, the vivacious and aptly singularly titled _Liz_ appeared with plays and set them out. Most waited to hear the nature of their assignment, but I rose to investigate. Bram continued lounging against the pillows like a statue of royalty. With his golden locks left to sweep over his dark, sanguine eyes, he looked every bit the Lestat of human girls' fantasies. It brought a less-than-secretly-satisfied smile to my lips. I glanced over each title, rolling my eyes at the fad theatrical pieces and breaking into a grin while making my selections.  
"_Dracula: The Musical_ or _Jekyll and Hyde_?" I asked him without lifting my gaze.

"_Jekyll and Hyde_. Vampires doing Dracula is more cliche than one of these Top Forty artists actually singing." A collective chuckle rose from our classmates. I left the script of our supposed heritage on the table and returned to my boyfriend's side. He smirked as I opened to a random page and instantly glowered, "It's a musical."

"Well yes, we're on our musical unit," Liz replied. I rolled my eyes and passed him the script. He laughed out loud, "If the shower's any inclination, you'll be fine with this singing thing." If my face could've flushed, it would've turned red. I glanced at him with a raised brow. He thumbed a few pages, shrugging and dropping the script on the carpet beside us. We watched the others make their selections, scrutinizing them with more vigor than Liz had for us.

"Did you do your poli-sci project?" I murmured to Bram, suddenly remembering life inside my blissfully ignorant bubble.

He laughed, glancing to me, "Vinnie Stoker did it."

I gently smacked his arm, "Don't rely on your partner for everything."

He rolled his eyes and kissed the side of my head, "I can rely on you, can't I?"

My barely-beating heart skipped one of its beats. I did blush then, very lightly, and I could hardly control the smile that dawned on my face. He sat back, glowing with satisfaction at having pleased me emotionally. His fingers lightly brushed from the edge of my sleeve to my elbow, as if reminding me that he was more than physically capable of backing me up on the project. I shifted, yawning slightly, smoothing my skirt and curling my legs upward to contain it against my skin while laying across his lap as Liz began speaking.

"Alright, so we're going to spend two weeks or so on musicals before we get into the actual writing and directing aspects of the class. Each of you, or your group, has a script of a play you want to work with. For this unit, you'll be required to memorize and perform a scene and song."

"We should've opted for _Sweeny Todd,_" Bram said none too quietly. I smirked, rolling my eyes to his general direction. He smirked, raising his brows once in a teasing acknowledgement while toying with the ends of my hair.

"They're due in two weeks, I suggest you get started." Liz had two moods, overly energetic or slightly pissed off. She had entered upon the latter mood as she left us to our business. I was practically timing it, but within five minutes, Charles and Vinnie popped around the corner. I smirked, sitting up fluidly, "Well, if it isn't my favorite gear-head and grease-bum. Looks like everyone forgot the dress code."

Vinnie had rich, raven hair and blue-tinted ivory skin. He said it was from all the chemicals he was around all the time, I had money on the fumes and his cigarettes. The greaser's jacket was tied around his waist, offset by much-abused jeans and a plain white undershirt. He jumped up on the stage, dug through his bag and held out a paper for Bram, "We figured we'd ditch a little auto shop to deliver. How ya doin', babydoll?"

Vinnie was one of those types that either loved you or hated you, and we were a pair of the select few that Vinnie hadn't considered "as fake as their stick-on nails."  
I shrugged in reply and extended a hand, "Still working with silver, Holden?"

He rolled his eyes, "You and those damn books." His gaze turned to Bram, "Beat up that ass of a brother for me?"

He nodded, provoking my irritation, "That's why you got in a fight with Sean?"

"Trust me, many other reasons not limited to Vinnie contributed," he replied. With a look, he asked Stoker for a smoke and a light, and surely if I hadn't been in his presence, the greaser might've agreed. Instead, he rolled his eyes and took my hand, kissing my knuckles gently, "Yeah yeah, get your own ya pub-rat bum."

"Racist," Bram shot back with a smirk.

"Patsy," Vinnie replied, dark eyes glinting teasingly.

"I'd like to see you say that in training," Bram replied. There was a challenge glinting in his eyes. To a guy like Vinnie, the school was probably the least interesting thing in the world. To me, being surrounded by males was. All too eventually, the testosterone flared up and I was left being the only intellectual in a group that liked to beat each other up for fun.

"You three are like the Romans," I muttered, reaching over my boyfriend's waist to grasp the script and fold back the main page to read. Bram sat up and gently wrapped an arm around my waist and nuzzled into my hair. The affection was far from unwelcome. My cheeks warmed at the gentle press of his lips to the tip of my ear, "Hush, sweetheart. Let me duel before the empress."

"You intellectuals!" Vinnie exclaimed, "How about ya just go at it like a couple normal people, huh? Bite and paw and scratch that itch and come find me later." Charles laughed out loud. If I'd been a little less of a lady, I might've told him exactly what I intended to do with time alone with my sweetheart, but instead I simply let the script fall shut, placed a finger under Bram's chin and guided his face closer to mine. A crooked little smirk of devious satisfaction flickered across his features as he kissed me forcefully. I squeaked out a giggle of surprise. Vinnie pretended to gag. We kissed without breathing for a solid minute at the very least, but it left my pulse increased and my lips tingling from the brush of his fangs. He flashed Vinnie a small smirk, "See you in training."

Charles flashed me a smile, hopping off the stage before Vinnie did.

"Don't inhale too many fumes, nicotine included! Don't forget, they used to use it as a poison!" I called after them teasingly. Vinnie glanced at me, letting me know if he were a little less mature, he might've retaliated. I smiled, filled with the sense of elation that only kissing Bram brought on. He sighed softly and glanced at me, ruby eyes pleading like a puppy, "We do have to study, don't we?"

I glanced down at the script and back at my sweetheart. Something strange and human still burned in my chest. I tucked the script into his bag and smiled, "Blowing off one day won't hurt."

A playful grin crossed his features. He picked up his bag and grasped my hands, pulling me to my feet. Like a gentleman, he grabbed my bag and my coat and led me across the stage and up the delicate, metal steps to the intricate system of catwalks. It was most certainly private, at least fifteen feet above our classmates. He led me onto the one over the center of the stage and sat, producing a snack and a notebook, "I want you to read something."

I sat beside him and settled in for our usual kind of class, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. The tittering laughs of the other upper-class reached us and bounced off an invisible wall separating us from them. And there we stayed for quite a while, reading literary works to each other and playing the Pocky game.


	4. Chapter Four

_Chapter Four_

After Dramatic Literature came our Current Events class. It was, in short, an excuse to tell us what was going on in the world and allow us the opportunity to vent over it. I hadn't missed anything in the years I'd been here, apparently. Every day, I found out who killed who and who was on the top forty charts and about that god-awful mockery of vampires that preteen girls were obsessed with, and I had to admit...the world was only getting worse. They were partially right in the twenties, though I'd never support that kind of closed-minded idiocy. At least...not all of it.

The projector flicked through headlines of _AOL News_. I rolled my eyes at the pop news and quirked a brow in interest toward the rest. "Human history," Bram sighed, sinking into the seat beside mine, "One day. One day, we're going to take back our land."

In the three years we'd been together, he'd never aspired to be a ruler. It was a pleasant change and earned a warm smile of its own, "You're going to be a king, sweetheart?"

He smirked, "King of them all. Dracula's too cowardly to take back what's ours. My father's waiting and he's been waiting for eighty years. That blow-hard brother of mine thinks the humans are so goddamned special..." For the first time, I saw true bitterness and anger in his eyes. He clenched his fist and propped up his chin on it, "Bloody fool. We'll make cattle of them yet, mark my words."

I bit my lip and attempted to hide the very unladylike burn of desire that was forming in the center of my abdomen. To say that Bram was arousing when he exerted his dominance was an outright lie, at least to me. What others potentially saw as arrogance, I found attractive. Before our class could begin, I leaned over and left another tender kiss on the opposite side of his neck from the previous one, "Please tell me you'll keep that passion."

He smirked slightly, glancing me over appreciatively. He took my hand and kissed my knuckles gently, keeping up gentlemanly appearances for our classmates even when the last thing I wanted him to be was a gentleman. "As you wish."

Tiffany and her catty clique entered the room. I moved my seat closer to Bram's instinctually. Half the time, her very presence made me want to rip my hand from his and look at the floor, but today elicited the other response of mine- complete and utter triumph and control. Tiffany Vanderlin was as pale as snow and that pure in complexion, scrawny and slightly hour-glassed with full-bodied hair and almost constantly pursed lips that formed a little red-painted heart. She was notorious for the scandals she'd left in her wake that had once been frowned upon by the American aristocracy she'd been a part of before her family had lost most of their wealth in the Depression. A part of me still took pleasure in it whenever I thought of it.

Bram gently squeezed my hand in his own, prompting a flicker of my eyes to him while I rested the other against his thigh. His eyes flickered downward, lingering on my hand before flicking up to my face to judge my reaction. He was silently questioning me as I was to him, his eyes darkening with obvious arousal. He nudged his chair just a bit closer, whispering to me, "Behave yourself. I won't hesitate to punish you publicly."

My face burned with warmth, yet no color rose. He smirked, satisfied when I withdrew my hand. He caught it before it fully slipped away, brushing his thumbs lightly over the backs of my knuckles, "I love you, Gory. But you know that I wouldn't be the only one satisfied by your teasing." His possessiveness was equally as enthralling as his charm.

Tiffany seemed to hear, rolling her eyes in our direction. Half of these girls were their fathers' daughters, old enough to not know another way but submissive to the will of men and too sub-servant to them to dream of being otherwise, and then there were the feminists. Ah, feminism. It was a lovely concept, beautifully dreamed and much like Communism, something that could've been beneficial and went horribly wrong along the way. My neutrality was easily expressed; I answered to no one, not just men, and I certainly wasn't going to put up with anyone bullying Charles or Vinnie. Anyone, male or female, that dared start something with Bram was downright suicidal without my aiding him, but I would anyway. I glanced from her to Bram, silently warning him that if it became one of _those days_, he would have to hold me back.  
He smiled, openly and crookedly, in amusement. If anyone knew how quick I was to rip into someone's jugular, it was him for the simple fact that he was the one I avoided doing it to.

"Seats, all of you." Our teacher was once a simple young man, a Doctor Henry Astor (PHD in psychology, sociology, metaphysics and healthcare), but vampirism and teaching at Belfry Prep had seemed to age him. While he was physically no older than thirty-six, his dark hair was losing its shine and graying in patches. Tiffany shifted. No doubt physically attractive, Doctor Astor wasn't my type. Despite all his knowledge, he still declared himself _as impaired to action as Hamlet,_ which if anyone had properly read the play would know that he simply was not. Bram glanced over slightly, trying to hide the look behind a glance down at my notebook, but the petty jealousy did little more than warm my heart. As if living together and functioning like halves of one being for nearly three and a half years hadn't made us the ideal for other couples on campus, the entire foolish notion that he still had to see if I was checking out other men proved his love for me in ways that didn't require words. I smirked to myself, tapping my pen lightly on the corner of the notebook. It drew his attention enough to keep his gaze down as I drew one simple, flourished heart in the corner of the page. A small smile crossed his lips in return, satisfying him for the moment.

"Doctor?" Tiffany asked, her hand flashing up before he'd even finished inhaling, "Can we discuss some of these horrible trials going on now?"

My head rolled back on my neck involuntarily as I glanced to Bram. He was trying not to laugh, smiling rather widely into the back of his hand as he drew swirls that were quickly becoming the paths of butterflies in his sketchbook.

The door flung open and Vinnie rushed in, glancing at Doctor Astor for only a moment before seating himself behind us, "Engine fire in the shop. Damn girl, you've got clairvoyance."

Irritation dispelled for a moment, I smiled and shook my head at Vinnie's antics. He must've thought himself quite brilliant when he used big words, since he only seemed to use them around us.

"Which trial?" Doctor Astor said, hardly paying Vinnie any mind.

"Well, I was thinking of the one with the man who's getting away with murdering his girlfriend-"

For reasons innumerable, I could've reached across the seats between us and slapped her violently across the face.

"You're all about that life, aren't you?" Walter asked, nestled in his shadowy back corner. He was dark-skinned, supposedly the descendant of an African prince. People said he dabbled in voodoo and Satanism. I liked him.

"If you mean all about defending the rights of the oppressed, yes, by all means," Tiffany replied with venom dripping from every word.

Bram scoffed. I smirked.

Her eyes lifted, "Care to share, Devein? What misogynistic wisdom might you have learned on the Emerald Isle?"

"You know, I actually thought I'd missed a few of you people. Then I realized, Tiff, even if you were dead I couldn't miss you," he replied. I had to contain my grin, even if I was internally beaming. Vinnie laughed out loud and Walter smiled. Doctor Astor was smiling as well, keeping himself contained far better than we were. "Can we just get to turning in the projects before beginning today's debates? There are some new Justin Bieber songs-"

"Don't you dare," Ruth replied, shifting a mocha coloured hand to her jaw. "I can speak for us all when I promise you that we are done with all discussion of him. Please. Can't we talk about books?"

"Of course not," Walter replied, sitting up for a change, "Pretty girls like you aren't supposed to be smart too. At least, that's what they've been saying. Give me as many pop stars as I can see, it's pretty obvious none of them read either."

Tiffany gave him a look, but Ruth smiled and glanced back to him, "These generations are going to hell. Everyone is complaining about things a colored woman couldn't do fifty years ago, but here we are. We're sitting in the most prestigious school in the world, not because we're people of color, not even because we're qualified- but because we're vampires and we have the privilege to come enjoy ourselves."

"Preach," I said quietly under my breath. She laughed musically, turning to me, "Wanna take the soap-box?"

I shrugged, sitting properly under their scrutiny, "That's probably the great thing about being immortal. We have all the time in the world to learn and think and be and _breathe_. Humans rush through elementary education and college and trade school and they hurry through their lives, and they forget the history they came from. Even if they think it's changed, it hasn't really. They're still the ignorant peasantry, toiling away in their fields and making their barely-livable wages...and here we are."  
It seemed to fill them all with a sense of pride to be referred to. Bram smiled slightly in my direction as he listened to me speak, silently agreeing with every word. "We're still their kings. Their gods. Their real government. When we left Rome, it fell. When we decide to stand and stretch and rise again to take back what rightfully belongs to us, they'll see it again. Until then, we're content to do what the elite have always done. Lounge, rest, get the education the peasantry will never have." My eyes focused on Tiffany and I spoke directly to her, challenging her so-called authority to its very core, "We will always be better than them. Once a monkey, always a monkey, no matter how glorified they become."

"Woo," Walter muttered, "I think I got the Holy Ghost."

We all burst into laughter, all of us but Tiffany. If looks could kill, her stare of envy would've melted me. Bram leaned back, his voice soft as he spoke to Vinnie, "Now that's the woman I fell for."

Of course, like other classes, Current Events and Politics passed like a breeze. An hour was nothing to a vampire, especially not when trading witty and cynical comments with other intellectuals. The words of ours had lingered in the air and promised us all something. Age and wisdom brought depression of significant measures, but somehow Bram and I had restored something to that room that had been gone for decades for most of us: hope. One day, we would stand and stretch our wings and take back the world that was rightfully ours. Bram would be a king and I would be queen, and they would step back and deal with it. We would all have our corners of the world to rule and doubtlessly slaughter anyone in our way. By the time the chiming, church-bell sound of the class dismissal had rung, we were thoroughly satisfied with each others' company but one.

Vinnie waited for us while Bram packed up and attempted to find his assignment for the next class in his rather disorganized bag. Tiffany, on her way out, paused at our cluster of seats and stared directly at me, "I know you're older than quite a few of us, but you're wrong. There has to be equality, Gory."

I laughed out loud and took hold of her chin like a child, "Humans depend on each other to govern them. A kind, witty black man has risen from nothing to become the President of the United States. If you want equality, Tiff, find a communist country. Even then, none of us are capable of real equality."

"You preach what you practice, I'm sure," she said. Her words implied more than a glance at Bram ever would. I smirked, patted her cheek none too gently and chuckled under my breath, "He may be the head of my future family, but I am the neck and the head goes where I turn it."

Bram rolled his eyes, took my hand to help me over the chair and around her, and escorted me out of class with a barely audible, "_Bravi_."


	5. Chapter Five

_Chapter Five_

After Literature and Art History, our final class of the day was met with actual anticipation. While normal schools had physical education, there wasn't much that interested vampires in the way of sports- especially when we had extracurriculars for that. Instead of the typical kickball and whatever it was that teenagers in the outside world did, Belfry Prep offered something significantly more applicable to life: Combat Training.

In the past three years, I had learned that the training slowed down for no one. Newcomers were forced to learn outside and catch up or be thrown overboard. We were allowed to go home to change for training, which all of us did. My hair wasn't particularly long, but I still clasped it up in a clip against the back of my skull and replaced my skirt and dress shirt with a pair of form-fitting yoga pants and a tailored red tee. Bram, at my side, had exchanged his dress pants for sweatpants and simply taken off his dress shirt. His long, golden bangs partially fell over his defiant ruby eyes. He was sculpted from stone like a fine Roman figure, his toned arms bared and strong chest only covered by a simple undershirt. It filled me with a sense of pride to stand by his side. Even if our reflections would be hard to spot, to say the very least, it would've been nice to have a mirror to stare at ourselves in.

Our instructor was Coach Dewey. Rather mysterious and rather unstable, he was probably the only teacher I didn't have pegged. At my nearest, I was assuming he'd been in several wars and had significant and irreversible post-traumatic stress disorder. At the farthest? He might've just been an ass. Our class was composed of Walter, Ruth, Tiffany, Charles, Vinnie, Jonas, Bram and I. We sat on the bleachers while waiting for our teacher to present himself, Tiffany examining her nails and Ruth chatting quietly with Walter. Jonas appeared to be mentally sunning himself on the floor while Charles and Vinnie walked in late, as usual, laughing loudly. Vinnie's natural clothes hadn't been changed, nor had Charles. I rolled my eyes and sighed, "If you rip your shirt again, don't bring it to me for mending."

The chastising did little to dim Charles' smile, "Sure, I've got other mothers."

Bram scoffed. My eyes flickered to him. He smiled slightly, brushing his hair to the side, "You're no child of mine, Charlie."

"Nah, I hit it and we made some adorable little vamp-lets," Vinnie replied, leaping onto the seat and kissing my cheek wetly. I wiped it off with the back of my hand, edging toward Bram slightly, "Only in your wild dreams, Vinnie."

"Wild and vivid," he replied with a crooked grin.

Blessedly, the coach decided to enter before the jokes could continue any. We rose, straightening like soldiers. Everyone except Vinnie, that was. Hands shoved in his pockets, he'd have rather been relaxed than disciplined. The coach looked us over and nodded in my direction, but spoke to the men on either side of me, "Devein, Stoker. Go."

Bram started out onto the open floor. I straightened, crossing my arms over my chest. Vinnie grinned, jogging out to face Bram. "Don't kill him," I muttered. The corner of my boyfriend's lips quirked slightly. Vinnie glanced at him, his naturally playful grin filling with malice. He struck first. Both males were in motion from the moment Vinnie decided to strike onward. Bram's knee caught Vinnie's side. Vinnie gripped his shirt, fully prepared to use the momentum of the strike to flip him, but Bram's elbow struck him between the shoulder blades, successfully doubling him over and effortlessly flipping him onto his back.

Vinnie coughed once, feigning pain, "You look better from this angle."

"Commit it to memory, Stoker. You and your ego can kindly get a room now."

"Fangtell," Coach called before Bram had even helped Vinnie to his feet. The others straightened, seeming to expect protest or drama. "This oughta be good," Tiffany muttered, finally distracted from her French manicure.

I simply smiled and switched places with Vinnie, bouncing slightly on the slight heels of my ballet flats. Bram's brow twitched in questioning, a wicked little smirk crossing his angelic face. I flashed him a grin and lunged at him. He dodged my strike and attempted to counter with one of his own. I grasped his wrist and twisted. He grasped my wrists, just as I planned. Feet planted, I sprang up and used his fighting stance for leverage to elegantly flip over his head. Instead of carrying him with me, I felt my wrist twist in his grip and, rather gently, hooked his foot out from under him. He released his hold on me to balance himself, but not without whipping around and catching my waist. I giggled, pausing a moment to revel in the light brush of his fangs against my neck, "In the great words of Gambit-"  
I drove my elbow into his ribs, causing a flush of breath to escape him, and struck his knees. He fell backward and I dropped on top of him, my hands resting on either of his legs.  
"Bang, you dead," I whispered while stealing a kiss.

"Get on with it and kill each other," Tiffany practically called. Bram shrugged and fell onto his back, tugging me down with him, "Ah, but you forget- regardless of our positions, we will always be on the same side. And even more relevant, we live together. I have taught her and she, me. Short of using an actual weapon, we know each other too well."

I rolled my eyes and gently kissed his cheek, "I hope that didn't hurt too badly."

He grinned, "If I couldn't handle it when you get rough, we'd never make it through a weekend."

Charles slapped money in Vinnie's palm. Tiffany's eyes lit up with fury. Coach glanced at us, shaking his head. He might've had the inclination to call one of us to pick, but Bram nudged me gently. I rose, offering him my hand. He grasped it in rising, bringing it gently to his lips and stepping toward the grouping to allow me. Tiffany snapped forward like a cobra, her fist connecting with his jaw.  
I saw red. Before she could even try again, mine connected with her face. She had left her full, dark curls free and I took a fistful in a hard yank. My foot collided with her ribs, my nails split her skin, and her back slammed into the opposite wall all within the span of a pair of seconds. My hand was around her throat before my actions fully processed themselves.  
"If you ever touch what belongs to me again, I will end you."

Her eyes widened; surely she hadn't taken my possessiveness to heart before. Before I let go of her neck, I drove my knee with force into her femur. The snap of bone resonated. Vinnie winced. She screamed, high-pitched and fierce. Releasing her, I stepped back and watched her crumple to the floor. No one moved to help her up. There was amusement on my classmates' faces, surprise on Bram's. Coach had paused, staring at the both of us. Vampires were naturally aggressive beings, it came with the passive approach to living for eternity. It wasn't like breaking a bone wasn't going to heal in a few days. The class was for working out our aggression in general, and if she thought in the remotest sense that it was the full brunt of mine, she had no idea. I beelined for my boyfriend, examining his face. A shadow of a bruise traced his skin, but he rolled his eyes at my concern, "I'm incredibly proud of you, Gory. Don't ruin it."

I stuck my tongue out and kissed his bruise lightly. Vinnie whistled, sitting on the bleachers, "Remind me never to piss you off again."

"Don't breathe," I replied. Charles laughed. Vinnie pouted. I glanced to him, making sure he understood that I was simply teasing, but the pout had already erased itself from his face. Tiffany was glaring daggers as the coach lifted her, aiding her to rise. "_Puttana!_" she snapped on the way past. I rolled my eyes, dismissing her as usual. Bram's hand glided gently to my lower back. Coach Dewey turned and waved us off, "Class dismissed."

"Alright," Charles celebrated quietly, grinning. Ruth and Walter rolled their eyes and headed off, taking Jonas with them. Vinnie winked at us before leading Charles off, no doubt into more trouble. The silence rang in my ears. A soft chuckle finally broke it, drawing my attention to my boyfriend. He gently pulled me closer, his free hand slipping up my back to rest against the back of my shoulders. His head tilted like a curious puppy before his tender lips brushed the hollow of my neck. I blushed slightly, running my fingers through his hair, "I think you need a haircut."

He chuckled against my skin, "You never cease to amaze me." A peppering of soft kisses soothed my remaining anger like ice on a wound. My fangs grazed my lower lip, fingers tangling in his golden locks while the gentle kisses brushed my skin relentlessly. He tipped my neck, supporting it himself while tightening our embrace. I felt the brush of his fangs, starting slightly only to release his hair and clasp my hand over my mouth to stifle a thrilled gasp.  
"I'm so proud of you," he murmured, "You're so sexy when you act so fierce."  
I felt breathless. My fingers found his chin and guided his face upward gently. The amount of pure adoration, love and desire in his eyes caused my heart to clench almost physically. Seeing his love so obviously stated and knowing that it was all directed at me... it made me feel almost human. Gently, his hands released my body to slip up to my face. Gentle, strong, he made sure our eyes remained locked while his lips pressed very gently to mine. I didn't feel worthy of him. In that moment in time, I didn't feel worthy of all the great and powerful beauty that was Bram Devein. I most certainly hadn't acted like the lady I claimed to be, even if he and the others bloody well knew I still had the mind of a logic-minded woman. He was a god among insects and he had chosen one to be his goddess. It was as if he sensed those thoughts, for his kisses increased in fervor. He had nothing to prove, and yet he seemed to want to prove everything.

"I love you," I murmured. He found the clip in my hair and let it down, clipping the elongated front strands back in a halo. I blinked and blushed, the close proximity only aiding to my quickening pulse and warring emotions. Gently, he kissed me again, "I love you too."

Before we had the chance to slip off, Charles burst into the room, "You guys! You gotta see this!"

"What is it, Charlie?" Bram asked, raising his head.

"There are monsters in Oregon! Like, more than just us!"

Of course there were more than just us, but hearing about them was rare. I raised a brow and released Bram to follow our younger companion, taking note of his almost perfectly matched steps as he followed us with equal curiosity.


	6. Chapter Six

_Chapter Six_

The week flowed in much the same way of airy pointlessness. Tiffany's mediocre envy hardly phased anyone, least of all Bram and I. Besides taking every opportunity to show her up and, in a few cases, trip her up, we'd almost completely forgotten the incident that started our retaliation. As Charles had put it, we were eternal children with the disposition of well-educated thirty year olds.

Saturday morning, we took our time getting out of bed. I hopped on my laptop while still beside him, checking my social networks and sending a few reply emails I'd neglected the day before. Bram took his time waking up in general. With his head resting on the pillow beside me, my eyes had a hard time leaving his face. He was completely at peace for a change, the quirk of a smile on his lips. His hair, mussed gently with sleep, fell partly over his eyes. I was careful not to wake him in brushing it away. The ends of his hair tickled my skin like a hem of velvet on silk. Bram Devein was simply the most perfect creature to exist in my world or any, for that matter, and as much as I attempted to voice it, it would never come out with the vigor that it resounded through my heart with. Sometimes, loving him was the only positive aspect of my life.

As if proving my point, my computer chimed a quiet "you've got mail" to bring my attention back to the screen. I hovered over the mailbox and stared at the address on the email. It's subject line, a simple _Read at your leisure_, made me hesitate to open it. But, as if I had to speak to my father face to face, I composed an absent smile and clicked on it.

_I'm sorry about the past few weeks. It's been difficult on us both, I know. It won't help that I can't say this to your face. If you didn't have school, I'd ask you to come home. Maybe you and your boyfriend can come down here for a while during the summer. Bring your friends. I don't know what to do anymore._ Some of his words were obviously misspelled. I pressed my lips together, glancing at the clock in the lower right corner of the screen and at the timestamp on the email. It was only eight in Chicago; either he was already drinking and he'd just woken up, or he hadn't gone to sleep yet and was very, very drunk. _Your mother used to get the flowers and make the dinner plans and tell the staff what needed to be done. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do here. All the flowers are dying and I haven't been hungry in two and a half weeks. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. You're all I have left, Gory, don't hate me for trying to be a man. I'm sure you're enamored with the bleeding heart types now, guys who can act and write poetry and cry and not be sissies about it. I'm just not that type. You know that._ I tried to breathe properly, but the facade had fallen. It was like being a curious young Greek, hiking to the top of Mount Olympus and finding out that my gods weren't so close after all. It seemed as if he'd tried to stop there, but the last words were so badly typed that it took me a few moments to realize he'd only repeated what he said and hit send. And it slammed into my chest full-force. _You're all I have._

I picked up my laptop and climbed out of bed. Leaving it, and my glasses, on the desk, everything open and bared to where it had been, I stumbled out of the bedroom and managed to make it halfway across the living room before my tears became blinding. I clasped my hand over my mouth to stifle a sob, but clasped the other over it as well when I realized I wanted to scream more than sob. Something struck my shin and I stepped back, managing to trip and fall onto my backside. I gasped, my knees slowly winding up to my chest. The thought flickered across my train of thought that I should've fallen forward and gotten impaled on the wooden edge of the table or by a leg or something, something that was a horrible Final Destination accident, something that would ease the guilt that seared into my chest. I brushed my bangs off my forehead, the familiar flush of heat filling my face that came with crying. I wrapped an arm around my torso like a corset, attempting to hold my insides together. The heat on my cheeks was being relieved slightly, my collarbone damp with the tears that had completed their descent and took up final residence on the hem of my undershirt.

He hadn't even made a sound rising from bed. The only sound that alerted me to his presence was the brush of his bare feet across the hardwood floor that led from the door of our bedroom to the main apartment. I was too far gone to care, curled up on the corner of the carpet against what I presumed to be the couch. He lowered to my side and released my fingers from my chest, "Gory, you're hurting yourself."  
My eyes flicked down to notice imprints of my nails against my bosom. It was only fitting that I'd tried to tear my own heart out; the traitorous organ kept causing me more pain than it was worth. He clutched my hand almost painfully, his arms wrapping around me tightly. His solid chest pressed against my back, futilely trying to pry my body out of the ball I'd wound into. I tried to shake off his grip, squirming to be freed, but he held on relentlessly. "I am not letting go of you," he voiced, squeezing my wrists, "I'm not leaving you. For Christ's sake, if you won't move, at least breathe properly!"

I drew in a deep, shaky breath and attempted. It only built up the urge to scream, so I grabbed a pillow off the couch and did just that. His hold eased before wrapping tenderly around me, his face pressing into my hair. He rocked me slightly, the slow, steady thrum of his pulse against my shoulder bringing down the agony just a little. He ran his fingers through my hair, brushing it back from my face, "Lift your face to breathe, please. That's all I'm asking of you, Gory. Just breathe."

I did, forcing myself to inhale and exhale in a sane manner. The focus on the action eased the sobbing and the tears, but not the agony. He laughed gently, squeezing my waist, "That's my girl." He must've reached for the remote, because all of a sudden CNN was reporting on the monster community again. I nearly stood up and chucked the remote at the screen. My strength was sapped. I laid against him, wiping my face with my palms and trying to sooth my eyes with the backs of my fingers, still curled in a ball like a child. He kissed my flushed cheek and rose, returning a moment later with my glasses. I let him slip them tenderly onto my face and gently righting them so they sat properly. "Better?" he murmured. I nodded. He didn't rise until I did. I was surprised he let me slip free of his arms, but he did. I returned to the bedroom and restored the page, clicking on the reply button and typing quickly.  
_I know, Dad. You're not the only one in pain right now. If the flowers are cut, remove the dead ones until they're all dead. Then dump the water, wash the vase and get new ones from the shop on Sixty-Third. She loved that one. If they're not cut, I suggest you have the staff fertilize them and water them, maybe even preen them. They'll come back. Flowers are different than people, they come back when parts of them are dead._ I paused. Morbid as it was, it needed to be said. I wiped my eyes once more before continuing, _I love you. Please sleep and curb the liquor. Don't you dare drive while you're so drunk. Remember your business and how to behave like a gentleman. And Bram and I will be down there by June Fourth, so you better have a wing of the house ready at the very least._

I hit send, signing out of everything and powering off while I sat and stared at the screen. Even when it went dark, I stared at the reflection of my shirt in it. I shifted, wishing I could see my face before clasping it shut gently.

"You look beautiful when you cry." Bram's voice carried from the doorway, a note of sorrow in his tone that I wished I hadn't caused. "Your eyes come alive. Your face gets so pale and so flushed at the cheeks, and the whites of your eyes get very pink, but your lashes get darker with dampness and your eyes just glow. You're always the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, but when you cry..." He let a hand fall from the cross of his arms over his chest and gestured to me, "You become a little less believably real."

I laughed humorlessly, closing my laptop and balancing my head on my fists, "Are you reading my mind?"

He shook his head slightly, leaning against the doorframe, "I just know you very well."

A pair of tears wetted my lashes once again. I wiped them away and rose, "Do you want to go out today? Get lunch down at the diner...grab groceries and just...forget ourselves for a few hours?"

He nodded, crossing the small space between us to grasp my hands in his, "As beautiful as you are when you cry...I never want to see it again."

His eyes were so warm, full of infinite love. I smiled, slipping my hands free of his to wrap my arms gently around his neck. He broke into a crooked little smile, glancing me over and pulling me closer with a gentle hand against my lower back. Suddenly, he tugged me into our walk-in closet with him and pulled shirts from the shelves. "Do you know what always makes you smile?"

I couldn't help but do it involuntarily to his teasing, watching him as he threw them in the air like Jay Gatsby. There was something boyish in his expression, the mischief-causing young man his brother always assumed he was. I caught one or two out of the air, causing him to toss one directly into my hands for the fun of it. Even if it would've been logical to chastise him for making such a mess, I could only try to catch them like butterflies as they fell. There was something childish in us both after all.

...

My eyes adjusted to the lack of light in the gas station well. I broke into a smile, glancing at the dimly lit little box television in the corner, "Slow day, Wilson?"

"Sassy little lit major," the thin, older vampire behind the counter replied, "What'll it be?"

"Twenty dollars on pump three and a pair of Strawberry Julius-es."

He smiled with an edge of bitter sarcasm and took the pair of bills out of my hand, nodding in the direction of the refrigerated case. I smiled to him in reply and walked up, taking a pair of the dark bottles with the half-bent caps and nodding toward him. He resumed his half-propped up state in front of the TV before I'd even ducked out the door.

Bram was already pumping gas from the vintage machine, watching the dials flick slowly. He broke into a smile when I handed him the bottle. "Heineken? He's certainly upgraded himself." Peeling back the already uneven cap, Bram took a drink of the thick, red liquid inside. I did the same, leaning on the hood of our hearse and popping off the cap with a manicured fingernail. The sweet blood inside was still warm, making me giggle as I swallowed a sip. The bottle still tasted of alcohol that I knew he'd poured out, but saved for the occasional partying group of college students who had no doubt contributed to the bottles themselves. Bram toasted slightly, grinning, "To fresh blood, and the bodies in Wilson's dumpster."

I raised my bottle and took another drink. The rickety screen door opened, causing me to start slightly as I glanced back at the door. Marty leaned on the door, looking at us both, "You hear the reports about Oregon?"

"It's a damn shame," Bram said, attempting the local vernacular. His voice was too melodic for it to take on their tone. I smiled into the blood while Wilson nodded, "Damn shame is right. They ran from persecution and this happened."

"If you want to be fair, we all did," I reminded him, "But some of us are planning revolts. This is more like...trying to get shot in the face without a gun in your hand to defend yourself with."

"That would only piss you off," Bram teased, glancing at me. I smirked, shrugging, "I was part of the Bull Moose party."

"Things like that don't happen in Salem's Lot," Wilson continued, eyeing us both suspiciously.

"No sir, they don't," Bram replied, adding volume to his tone, "If we planned to reveal the community, we'd bring the community to its feet first and make sure the entire human world got a nice dose of us."

Wilson smirked, "Keep dreamin', kid."

A flash of irritation crossed Bram's face, but it was hardly noticeable to the other man. He composed a polite smile, nodded once and finished filling the tank. I ducked inside, giving him the space to finish up. He entered a moment later, letting the polite smile fall into a disgusted scowl, "If I have to remind the twit that I'm older than him by centuries one more time..."

I rested my hand over his, taking a long drink before replying. "He smuggles in the good stuff, love. He might not remember us, but he does do a good bootlegging."

He pulled away, pressing on the gas a bit more than usual to get us out of town. I watched him more than the scenery, noticing the anger and disgust slowly building in his hardened, focused gaze. It became raw passion and determination, as it usually did. I rubbed his bicep soothingly. "We will restore the humans to their rightful place, Gory," he said quietly, "Mark my words. We will take back what should've never slipped from our grasp. I swear it."

"I know you do," I replied, taking another sip, "but you mustn't make such a scene about it. Just smile and nod until you prove them wrong."


	7. Chapter Seven

_Chapter Seven_

We carried our shopping bags up the stairs, catching the stray sounds of music and video games. Ruth and Charles occupied the flat below us, Walter and Vinnie in the one across from them and Jonas and Isodora in the one across from us. The weekends usually meant the usually occupied rooms would be vacant, but obviously not this weekend. I shifted my purse, grasping our keys with a finger and flipping through them before taking them in my other hand and unlocking the door. I shuffled inside and laid the packed shopping bags on the sofa, turning to aid Bram with the groceries when he shot me a careful look and abandoned them on the kitchen table. His silence coupled with the defensive posture set my instincts in motion. Ears trained, fangs suddenly very present in the front of my mouth, I knew we had an intruder. I followed him, keeping the distance he'd warned with his eyes. His lip curled back over his fangs and a low snarl rumbled from the very center of his chest. He threw open the bedroom door and partially lunged inside, the snarl of warning becoming one of irritation, "For the love of Judas Iscariot, Vincent Stoker! Put your goddamned clothes back on!"

My shoulders slumped in partial disappointment as I wandered over to the door after him, peeking in around his shoulder. Vinnie had our sheets tossed over him, his jeans obviously still on, but his shirt and jacket laid on the floor by the bed. His precious jacket, that he never took off, looked as if it had been beaten to hell. The boy notorious for his coming on to us both didn't even budge. I glanced to Bram in worry before slipping past him, crawling onto the bed beside him, "Vinnie? Hey, Vinnie..." I nudged his shoulder, feeling him tense. It became very obvious what we'd missed against our red sheets, "Bram, there's blood."  
Actually, there was a lot of blood streaming from what appeared to be a gunshot in his shoulder. I grasped Vinnie's face and shook him, my chest tight with worry. Several different and equally terrifying thoughts took hold in my mind, all fueled by the recent news reports. He stirred, hissing under his breath, "Woah, woah...easy on the shoulder, rag doll."

I smacked him in the other one, then, "You idiot, I thought you were dead."

"I thought you were home," he replied. Bram chose that moment to return, putting a flask in Vinnie's hand and glancing to me, "You might need a deep drink, Stoker."

For once, Vinnie listened without protest. He examined Vinnie's upper back and glanced at me, "The wound's still open?"

I nodded.

If he cursed very often, I got the feeling he would've. He nodded, acknowledging that it was both good and bad before resting his hand against the back of Vinnie's shoulder, "I need you to get the bullet out. You have small fingers."

"Oh fuck no," Vinnie said, glancing at the both of us, "Oh _fuck no._ Gory, don't even think about it." He'd be cussing a blue streak. My lips twitched. With Bram supporting him, I reached into the semi-cauterized little hole and awakened the bleeding. Vinnie's hand came down firmly on my shoulder, twisting in my shirt as he let loose a cry of agony. I grit my teeth at the squeeze of his hand, "Son of a bitch!"

"Drink!" Bram commanded. My fingers brushed something hard that I really prayed was not bone. It was in tight. I glanced at him, thankful it hadn't gone far, "I need to widen it."

"No you fucking aren't!" Vinnie shouted. Bram just nodded and grasped a piece of gauze to press to the wound around my hands. Vinnie's blood was flowing again, my mate leaving us to find something to pry the bullet out with. Vinnie's grip was probably going to dislocate my shoulder, but at the moment it was a lower priority. "How did you manage to get yourself shot?" I muttered, dabbing the wound gently. Bram returned a moment later with a pair of tweezers and Vinnie looked away, breathing heavily.

"If you're very religious, I'd consider praying," Bram muttered.

"Lilith and Cain, Lilith and Cain," Vinnie whimpered, his other hand clasping Bram's pant leg. I lifted my opposite hand from Vinnie's bicep to guide the tiny instrument to where my touch halted before withdrawing the finger coated in his blood. "Don't blink," I attempted to tease. Vinnie whimpered and tightened his grip on Bram. Very gently, I clasped down around it and gave it a swift, hard yank. He let out a half-crazed roar and made a fist against my arm.

"Damn," Bram muttered, taking the fully intact bullet into his hands. It was little and silver, pure lead, probably world war one dated. It hadn't been shot before, I could tell that. Rifle ammunition, I guessed. It looked like the type to come with the little gold shell casing. I let out a sigh of relief. Bram raised a brow, Vinnie too occupied with clutching the gauze to his shoulder to notice.

"Did you catch sight of who shot you?" he asked, his eyes remaining locked with mine.

"If I did, do you think I would've taken cover?" Vinnie replied. Despite having been in obvious pain, he still managed to boast. I resumed tending to his shoulder while Bram turned over the bloody bullet. "Can't be hunters," he murmured, voicing my thoughts, "Lycans wouldn't attack so obviously."

"Woah, woah...are you saying one of ours shot me?" The thought was probably as baffling to Vinnie as it was to us, but we were trained to fight each other. Bram nodded once and left the two of us, no doubt headed over to Jonas's flat.

While I tended to Vinnie's shoulder, he remained mostly quiet. After it was bandaged, though, he glanced at me and stared as if he'd never seen me before. "Would he throw himself in front of a bullet for you?"

I smirked, almost shaking my head but deciding not to confuse the answer. "I wouldn't let him."

He shook his head and let out a sigh, "You need to watch your back. You talk tough now, but thinking you're gonna die is pretty intense."

"We're immortal," I replied, picking up his shirt from the floor and assessing how much blood it had on it before examining his jacket and handing that back, "If you're really going to die that easily, you're not a real vampire."

He rose, snapping his collar up, "You've got an answer for everything."

I led him out to the main room, neglecting to reply. He stopped in front of the door, tossing a glance over his shoulder, "You guys are lucky you got each other. I've got Chuck and don't get me wrong, he's a good kid...but having a girl to come back for would be nice."

I went over to my shopping bags and started lifting the clothes from them, "Maybe if you cleaned up your act and stopped causing so much trouble, you'd get more ladies than you do now."

The wit returned to his smirk, "The girls I'm paling around with aren't exactly ladies."

I rolled my eyes, not exactly surprised. Sans shirt, Vinnie left the door open and walked down the stairs. I heard his boots turn and the soft shutting of his door, where he wound doubtlessly be interrupting whatever Walter was doing. I had unpacked half of one bag, checking them for remaining security tags as I went and folding them on a neat little pile on the arm when Bram returned. He shut and locked the door, running his fingers through his hair.

"It all started because one girl couldn't keep her mouth shut about what she was," he commented as he crossed the room. He returned with the laundry basket, setting it beside me, and headed over to unpack our groceries.

"What did?" I replied, taking the neat little stack and resting it in the laundry basket.

He opened the refrigerator door and began unloading the crinkling paper bags, "The whole Salem incident. Apparently, humans saw her once, then she lost her head, now she's decided to drag everyone out of the closet with her."

"Lost her head?" I replied with a raised brow. He laughed lightly, seeming to realize what he was saying, "She's a Frankenstein, I believe. She looks like one."

"Infamy must be lovely," I replied, organizing the separate washes in the basket. The door shut with a gentle padded squish and he crossed the living space to help. I arranged the piles and glanced to him. His hand, extended to help, fell. As I lowered the last little bit into the basket, he murmured, "Jonas thinks the coach might've. There isn't any solid way of knowing just yet."

I nodded, collapsing the bags and folding them. His arms wrapped gently around my waist, taking them from my hands and dropping them to the couch. His lips pressed lightly to my neck, electing a heated hiss from between my fangs. It was a dirty trick, but he used it to his advantage well. "Are you cross with me?" he murmured in my ear, using his soul-melting tone of sensuality mixed with the right amount of hurt. I shivered lightly, shaking my head. My hair swished fluidly around my face, "Of course not. I'm cross with Vinnie and these people I've never met. I'm still tired, and I would like to just..." I glanced down helplessly at the laundry stacked up in the basket and turned back to Bram, "Put it all off for tonight, curl up on the couch with you and forget the world outside this room exists."

He ran his fingers lightly over my back, turning me to properly face him. Reaching behind me, I felt him lift the bags and drop them on the laundry basket. I sat, breaking into a smile. "I've got it, just take a break. You push yourself too hard."

Did I? Was it really not too much to ask for a day laying around the flat with him? Pretending that everything was still okay and that I could function like a natural being? Instead of turning on the TV as he exited, I reached over and grabbed one of my stacked books off the table, flipping to the folded corner and diving into a separate world. He'd wake me for dinner, he usually did.


	8. Chapter Eight

_Chapter Eight_

My father hadn't replied to my email. Unnerved as I was, I didn't send him another. If he'd been drinking as heavily as the last email claimed he had, he was either sleeping or in the throes of the worst hangover in vampiric history. I sighed and signed off as Bram walked in the bedroom, the only light in the house besides my laptop screen coming from the overhead kitchen lights. We had excellent night vision, but for some reason we always left them on. It was a very pre-programmed, human thing.

"Anything new on the home front?" he asked while replacing the sheets. I rubbed my temples, staring at the screen. My silence spoke for me. I signed off my blog and powered down, shifting in the chair to watch him. His shirt was mostly undone, revealing the black undershirt beneath and the flexing alabaster muscles barely contained within it. "Do you think the coach shot Vinnie?" I asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

He shrugged, "He's not the most stable being to be around mental children like Vinnie. Some days I'd like to shoot the little shit myself, the only reason I don't is because of the days when I like him."

When he put it like that, the list of people that could've shot Vinnie grew exponentially. Bram tucked the sheets in and took off his shirt, tossing it onto the chair, drawing my attention back to him. They were plum and no doubt Egyptian cotton. My cheeks warmed instinctively. He noticed, kneeling at the foot of the bed, resting both hands on the footboard and staring at me, "Wanna break these in?"

My insides were torn between leaping with glee and flipping with guilt and unease. I stood and pushed in the chair, shutting the top of my laptop and climbing over the trunk at the foot of the bed. It really wasn't fair to him to neglect him when he'd done nothing wrong; in fact, he'd deserved so much more than we'd given each other. He took a gentle hold on my hips and helped me over the footboard, our eyes meeting. The old adage that the eyes were the window to the soul was certainly true; his eyes were full of wisdom and full of love. There was boyish playfulness and the sorrow of an old soldier. Overriding them all and taking the predominant field, though, was infinite love. I slipped my arms around his neck, drawing him closer. Our noses bumped and brushed lightly, his lips hovering over mine. I toyed with a lock of hair against the back of his neck, my touch causing a shiver to run down his spine. He paused before kissing me, examining my eyes, "You know when a love song is a sad love song, don't you?"

Obviously I could hide nothing in my own. I deflated, settling back in his embrace, "I don't know what I'm doing. I'm starting to think I never knew in the first place."

He released me to take both of my hands between his, shifting to meet my gaze instead, "It's alright to grieve, darling. You're allowed to be worried and upset. I just want to soothe it any way I can."

"It's more than that," I whispered. I unfolded like a fan, leaning back against the footboard of our bed. He settled in beside me, looping his arm over my shoulders, silently persuading me to tell him everything. Nothing had ever stopped me before, but so much felt so private that I hardly wanted to breathe a word. I folded my hands in my lap and glanced around the quiet room, the walls as lovely a dark, muted red as any. Very gently, he reached out and brushed my hair behind my ear before placing a gentle kiss to my pulse. The tightness in my chest alleviated suddenly on a sigh. My eyelids fluttered involuntarily. Bram could be a real Henry Jekyll if he wanted to be. Everyone knew his dual nature; he was quietly powerful and stronger than he looked. As if combat training didn't prove to everyone that he was a force to be reckoned with, his debate skills and assertive, well-thought logic proved his equal parts brain, looks and strength. His kissing was hardly a guilt trip as much as it was a coaxing. It was a very cunning act, really. Bram always got what he wanted, whether he had to manipulate people for months at a time or not to get it. I was probably the only person to notice or call him on it.

"Say something," he murmured, resting a hand on the back of my neck. Warmth was stirring in my veins at his traveling kisses. My breath hitched, a light kiss to the front of my throat promising that he intended to continue. His eyes lifted for just a moment, long enough for me to gently rest my hand over his chest, "Do you really love me?"

His brows furrowed and he straightened. "Of course, why would you ask?"  
I traced my fingertips across his jaw, staring into his eyes. If I had to be truthful, I was afraid that everything I found there was a beautiful like, like Vinnie's street-hardened exterior or Charles' boyish immaturity. Everything about this place was as contrived as a postcard, the last thing I needed right now was for Bram to be. His eyes, instead of tinting with anger or suspicion, filled with worry. He grasped my hand in his, "Gory, I love you. I don't know what I have to do to prove it."

I nearly asked him to marry me right then and there, but I honestly had no idea what to say. He alleviated my agony. We used to be able to lead separate lives; I was okay to go out with my friends and do things on my own, but now...I needed him like a drug. I couldn't trust that the girls wouldn't go to the concept of eternal love or plan their futures; they were an ambitious bunch. At least I didn't have to worry about most of those two points with his friends. He knew me well enough to steer the conversation far, far away from the subjects I found too tender to touch just yet. He must've had at least an inclination to the extent of the agony I was in.

Sinking back into a sitting position, he stared at me gravely. I closed the distance between us, laying my head on his shoulder, "It's nothing. I'm just not sure how long this is going to take. I'm sorry that I'm not the same right now."

He laughed lightly, "That's where you're wrong. You never change. You're always that beautiful, strong woman that I fell in love with at first sight, whether you think that tears or smiles are going to change that or not. You have emotions besides pride and sensuality, you know. I'm not afraid of them, you shouldn't be either."

If I'd had the opportunity, I would've teased him and told him he should be afraid of me. At that moment, though, there was a shriek and an uproar of laughter from the lower level. I glanced to Bram and climbed out of bed, grabbing his outer shirt to cover my pajama top with. He headed out first, leaving me to trail behind. He took the stairs two at a time ahead of me, pausing near where Ruth was blocking Charles from whatever was occurring outside, "I said stop it! This is barbaric!"

I heard Jonas's voice from outside, "This is what they ought to be striving for in Oregon!"

Bram growled, pausing in place. I stepped up behind him, catching sight of a badly beaten young woman. Anger flared in my chest but the stray rays of moon illuminated rows of sharp teeth, sharp claws and growing fur. The anger faded only slightly. I rested my hand on Bram's shoulder and slipped by, pushing him off. Vinnie leaned against the wall and Walter hung back, having noticed my presence.

"You're really not the one to be defending these things, Fangtell," Jonas replied, eyes glinting.

"I'm not defending it. Animal cruelty is punishable by law. At least let it scamper off, it clearly was smart enough to break out of someone's yard down in the 'Lot." It was evident the lycanthrope wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Jonas simply smirked, leaning in to whisper, "Come on, Fangs. Don't tell me you've never thought about it." He might as well have been discussing bestiality. I let the look of disgust cross my face obviously, turning away from him, "You're sick."

"It's lower than an animal, Gory, it's part human! If it was an animal, I'd let it go. If it were a human, it'd be dinner. But things like these...they're hardly worth the playtime."

"So leave it," I replied, attempting not to look down at the thing still attempting to growl and defend itself. Lycanthropes had once served as a vampire's familiar; our servants, slaves and contact to the outside world during the day. From our history, the relationship had been mutually beneficial until they decided they wanted equality. It wasn't ignorance that told me they had been better with us, it was education. They had defended us by day, we defended them by night. They were half mortal, as he said, they needed us. My eyes flickered downward and I took in the sight of the torn shorts and ripped up shirt. The chain-link collar around her neck was clearly cutting in. I lowered myself beside her, unclasping the collar and allowing it to fall into the grass. She bared her teeth, but whimpered. Contrary to popular belief, I didn't hate werewolves. I pitied them. They were halfway between two worlds with nowhere to go and no one to take care of them. The ones I hated, deserved it. This was not one of them.

"You're nuts. It's going to bring back others," Jonas said, staring at her while she tried to test her limbs. Vinnie shrugged and walked inside, "It's her choice. Come on Charlie." Ruth seemed relieved, flashing me a smile as the three walked back into her flat. Walter patted Jonas's back, "You both have points, but hers seems to have the most thought."  
The werewolf lurched to her feet and ran. Not twenty yards later, there was a sharp crack of a shot and it dropped to the grass. We stood, frozen with shock while Coach Dewey walked out of the shadows behind the other dormitory and went over to the lifeless wolf. I turned away, but it did little to alleviate the cold chills once the second shot was fired. I looked to Bram, my hand clasping over my mouth. Death was an every day occurrence, but slaughter had never been my strong point. Walter turned away in disgust, storming inside, muttering about killing without cause as Jonas broke into a grin, "Bram, what do you wanna bet he doesn't get rid of the body until morning?"

Disgust became sheer sickness. I stormed inside myself, more than willing to crawl into the bathtub and wash away the violation that began crawling across my skin. He followed, leaving Jonas there. Isodora was in the doorway of their flat, her wide, round spectacles pushed up her mousy nose and making her eyes look like planets, "What's going on?"

"Your brother is proving to be every bit the ignorant swine we expect him to be," I snapped, storming in the apartment. Bram shot her an apologetic glance and followed me.

I didn't kill very often. I went into big cities and I hunted from the undesirables; the petty crimes, the men who smelled of guilt, the women who thought they could get away with anything. I did what I did out of a hero complex, a god complex, whatever kind of complex they wanted to call it, but I did what I deemed right even if it made me as bad as the people I tried to erase. I tried to help people. I beelined to the bathroom and paused by the sink, unsure if the blood was going to greet me again or not. My stomach was tossing and bubbling up to my chest. I clasped a hand against the front of his shirt, clenching a hand in the material. I remained that way for a long time, staring at the drain and praying that I could keep my dinner down.

"There's a soul of good in all things evil," Bram observed from the doorway.

I glanced at him, took in a deep breath and released it in a sigh.

"They have their reasons, just as you have yours. Take a few deep breaths, love. It'll be alright." He moved from the doorframe to rub my shoulders, offering me comfort as best he could. Harsh as we could be, not even he could justify what we had just witnessed. Blatant ignorance and idiocy in closed minds, exactly what we were trying to break.  
He kissed the back of my neck gently, snuggling close, "We'll rule them all one day. I promise."


	9. Chapter Nine

_Chapter Nine_

At about noon the next day, there was a timid knock at the door. Bram didn't look up from the spread-out compilation of books across the sofa and adjacent table that he'd trapped himself in the center of, leaving me to get it between the near-constant nudging of the scrambled eggs across the pan to keep them from burning. In a flash, I went to the door and flipped the lock and returned to my work, allowing Isodora to timidly walk inside. She wasn't much different in her pajamas than she was out of them. Her hair was still messily trapped in a clip, her dated floral nightgown traded for a sleeveless, vibrant floral print top with a row of buttons accentuated by ruffles and a pair of dark leggings. Thankfully the shirt was large enough to come down quite far, draping over her like a Roman tunic. She had thin, gold wire framed glasses in circles rather than ovals, magnifying her eyes in a way that shouldn't have been possible. She was surely a pretty girl under all the plain she draped herself in, but I suppose we'd never know. She stood awkwardly on the threshold for a moment before taking a step toward me, fiddling with a thin silver ring on her right hand. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. I feigned that I wasn't watching for her sake, turning the heat of the stove down to a simmer and poking at the eggs with the spatula. They were thoroughly smothered in butter and bacon grease, lightly seasoned with oregano and now apparently enough to draw Bram's attention.

"I'm sorry, Gory," she finally said as my boyfriend began the daunting task of freeing himself from the circular entrapment of books.

"About what?" I feigned indifference. I didn't blame her, of course not. It wasn't her fault she was stuck with such a juvenile brother. I wouldn't be surprised if he ate dirt and dissected worms in the sand box too. Sleeping had definitely re-evaluated the situation for me. I was worried about my father, my emotions were on high and I had simply decided that I would slap anyone that irritated me from here on out. I must've been radiating newfound strength, as she took another step but seemed to think better of it. I took the plates off the countertop and filled them with eggs and bacon, pushing one to the other side for Bram. He brought his coffee over with him, taking up a chair and coincidentally entering the conversation. Before resting to eat, I turned and began washing the pan, hoping that Isodora would take the opportunity to speak.

She pushed her glasses up, seeming to steel her resolve and then lose all of her nerve at once. Her face was very circular, I noticed, much like her spectacles. As twisted as he was, her brother was the better looking one. At taking notice of my gaze, she attempted to shrink back and spoke very quietly, "About Jonas. Last night. I-it wasn't right, and he should've never stepped over his bounds like that."

"Isn't that cute? They're starting to answer to you," Bram replied, stabbing a chunk of egg, "Maybe I should've killed Sean while I had the chance."

If I didn't love him, he would've gotten a decently-powered smack upside the head for that.

Isodora was obviously afraid of answering to him. My boosted ego cloaked the bruising on my heart for a moment. He was right, which was lovely. I took my time washing the pan, letting her squirm. She was fussing with her ring like it was going to reveal the secrets of the universe. Suddenly, though, it slipped off her finger and out of her grasp. It skittered on its side across the floor, Bram's shoe coming down over it gently. He leaned down and picked it up between his fingers, dusting it off on his shirt and offering it to her in his palm. I stole a glance over my shoulder for that; her eyes were as wide as saucers, hands clenched against her shirt. He raised a brow, extending his hand a little farther, "Go on, take it."  
She was terrified. I reveled in it. I dried the pan and replaced it where it belonged, washing the remaining soap and grease off my hands and drawing her attention to me once again. He was enjoying this as much as I was. Slowly, Bram rose and crossed the space between them, lifting her right hand and putting the ring securely back on her finger. If I were in her place, I might've had my composure flustered, but she simply looked like she was staring into the face of Lucifer himself. It was a lovely sight.

"You didn't have to apologize for him," I spoke, physically causing her to jump. She wrenched away from Bram and took a few steps back, as if afraid I was going to pounce on her for contact with his skin. "If the child wants to come apologize for his behavior, then he can do such on his own."

She nodded, bowing slightly and murmuring an apology in what I instantly recognized as Frankish German before dashing out. Bram didn't even wait to hear the other door before bursting into laughter, "I bet she's the type to study the bible on Wednesdays and Sundays." He returned to his chair, yawning absently, "Probably one of those Draculean zealots. Christ this and Christ that and _let's go to war with the Muslims because that totally doesn't backfire in six centuries when they blow up lower Manhattan._"

I cracked a smile and shook my head, "You're such an ignorant ass."

"Ah, but I'm _your_ ignorant ass." He smiled before continuing to eat. After a few bites and a partially swallowed one, his eyes flicked upward toward me again, "You make better food than my mother."

"I'm Italian, of course I do," I replied, taking dainty bites. He rolled his eyes, took my fork and stabbed the eggs, meeting my gaze as he handed it back. A sheepish smile crossed my face.  
"I let you get away with wearing a corset instead of showing off that killer body of yours, the least you can do is really eat for me." It wasn't out of worry, Bram was just really that perfect of a man. I had said it before in teasing, and I would say it again for emphasis; he was the only man that would love a woman infinitely more for eating a triple bacon cheeseburger. He probably was worried about how little I'd been eating, but he didn't let it show very much. He was trying to keep it comfortable and natural, something that our world strained to actually be. Yet, with the white board listing off my chores and his schoolwork spread about, I could tell that nothing had really changed. We just had, just a little.

I picked up a piece of bacon and studied him. He did in return, our eyes caressing each other while amused smiles twisted our lips. "You have no idea how much I absolutely crave you at every moment of every day," he murmured, shifting ever so slightly closer. He rested his elbow on the counter, his eyes bearing into mine as his head rested on his hand. "I will never have enough of you, Gory Fangtell. Not now, not centuries from now, not at the end of our lives or in the spiritual world."

I smiled in return, chewing and swallowing before replying, "You are a king in the making, Bram Devein. Nothing would please me more to be your queen, your lover and your soulmate for the rest of my existence. Besides getting a lighted magnifying glass for sewing, you can put that on my birthday list."

He laughed, taking a long drink of his coffee before pretending to put it in perspective, "Would you like anything else, my love?"

"You can pull up my Amazon saved-for-later list yourself," I replied, smirking. A few more bites and we had both finished breakfast. He produced his phone, likely to do just that. "I mean something special. Do you want to go to Ireland? Chicago? Narnia?"

I laughed, shaking my head, "Besides taking over the world? I can't think of a thing." While I gathered our plates, he stared at me with a slowly falling smile. I rinsed them and stuck them in the dishwasher, righting to find him beside me. He studied my face for a long moment before speaking very clearly, very quietly and very gently, deliberately delivering his thoughts like a gentleman. "Would you be horribly angry with me if I decided to surprise you with something I knew you'd love?"

I raised a brow, studying his features for an ulterior motive. Finding none, I shrugged, "If you know I'd love it, why would you ask?"

"You hate surprises," he replied, a small smile toying with the corners of his lips.

I rolled my eyes, "I hate surprises from people who don't know me, like my friends and family. We've lived together for three and a half years. You know what I eat, what I read, how I sleep... If there's anyone whose judgement I'd trust on a surprise, it'd be yours."

He broke into a wide smile and brushed a lock of my hair behind my ear, "I do know you and I have seen the things you want and like. And while I would be more than happy to buy you some lovely dresses...I'd rather get you something from my heart that you can wear to more than formal parties."

I caught his hand, placing a gentle kiss to his pulse point, "I can wear dresses wherever I like, I just choose not to."

"You would look lovely," he murmured, allowing his hand to fall. His eyes held such intensity that I feared he was considering what I'd been. His tiny, witty smile returned quickly. "Do you want to work on the scene?" I rolled my eyes. He laughed out loud, holding up his hands passively, "I'm kidding. I'm almost done, though. If you want to do something later..."

I shrugged, leaning back on the counter, "Finish your homework and we'll see if I can keep my good mood."

He knew where this was going as well as I did, and with a smirk on his lips, he headed back to the table and closed more than half of the research books. Jamming his paper on a page he had been working with, he left that one open and crossed the room again, "I hope you didn't have plans today."

"Just my wifely duties," I teased, slipping my arms around his neck when he was close enough. He scooped me up, allowing my legs to link against the back of his. He kissed me softly, "Good."

I rested my hand on his shoulder, pausing him for just a moment, "Lock the door."


	10. Chapter Ten

_Chapter Ten_

The next morning dumped a great deal of rain on Salem's Lot and the surrounding areas. News reports flickered across the TV of power outages in the human cities, storm warnings and flooding streets and homes. Not to brag, but Vampires were the typically intellectually superior race and Salem's lot had long since fixed their foundations to keep out leaks and would surely stay indoors where it was cozy and warm. The school ran on its own system of generators that had been notorious for, jokingly, being able to withstand nuclear holocaust. We took the weather into consideration. Belfry Prep had a very loose dress code; Fridays allowed for casual clothing to be worn while the other days consisted of formalwear- dress shirts, skirts, dresses, nothing too overly sexual or disgustingly bedazzled. I rose early to get first dibs on the bathroom, dressing while Bram was getting ready. I slipped on my knee-highs and my skirt, selecting a pair of waterproofed leather boots instead of my usual shoes. The weather reports, although sopping, kept to the typical spring temperatures. Warmer than winter and nowhere near as warm as summer, I kept that in mind and slipped on a slit-sleeve red sweater. _Pierce the Veil_ came trickling through the TV as I switched channels, properly awakening my mind. I slipped my tie over my head and gazed at the reflection of my clothes. The ties of my corset didn't show, thankfully, neither did the bone plating. My skirt came down to the tops of my boots, leaving everything to the imagination.

"You should really trade that tie for a necklace today, you look too nice to have it draping everywhere." Bram walked out of the bathroom in only his half-zipped pants, going into his half of the closet for a belt. I shook my head and toyed with it, perching on the edge of the bed, "It's yours."

He paused, turning back to me with a dark shirt in hand. I removed his tie, continuing to hold it and wrap it back and forth around my hands. He raised a brow, slipping on his shirt and crossing the room to me again. He smelled rich and warm, grasping the tie from around my hands and slowly uncoiling it. His cologne was subtle but very obviously on, and his tousled hair was still damp. I leaned up and stole a kiss, "Want me to do these up for you?"

"Knowing you, you'll take it off and continue where we left off," he murmured against my mouth, stealing another kiss. He righted his tie, tucking it properly under his collar as I buttoned up his shirt. "You're so dashing," I murmured against his mouth. He tugged me close, a gasp of surprise slipping from between my lips before I had time to process its existence. His hands ran over my curves with a worshipping tenderness, fangs slightly bared, "It should be a sin to be so flawless."  
"I'm sure it is," I replied. He broke into a witty little smirk, kissing me softly once more, "Sassy little girl. Someone's going to spank you for that one day."

"I'm sure you have and it's just slipped my mind," I teased, slipping out of his grip. Grabbing a wide umbrella, I crossed the room to grab my bag and allow him to finish getting ready. I glanced to him out of the corner of my eyes, "If it's not letting up by Training, I'm not walking back in it."

"I am, if for no other reason than to beat Jonas to a bloody pulp." The chivalry in the statement was staggering. I rolled my eyes and sighed, "I can do that any day of the week. At least give it some time. Let him get into a comfort zone. Then, when he least expects it, I'll pay him back."

"And you wondered if I love you," he replied. I closed the straps and left it draping over the chair, pulling it out and sitting. He shot me a glance. I shot him one in return, "Go, make breakfast, I'll be right there."

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Mix me an AB with a double-shot?" I asked, pleading with my eyes.

He sighed and shook his head, "You'll have a caffeine heart attack one day."

"I'll get done what I need to get done." I powered up my laptop and immediately logged into my email. Not an email and it had been three days. Maybe he hadn't gotten it. I signed out, forgetting about that entirely to log into my video chat. As soon as it had restored in an online status, I hit the call button on my father's icon. It rang and continued to ring for a solid three minutes before I canceled and wrote him a quick IM.

_I have to go to class, but you haven't replied to my email. I know you're probably busy and drunk, but if you just write I'm Alive and send it once every day or two, that'd help._ I signed off and powered down quickly, grabbing my bag and our umbrella and dashing out to the kitchen. Bram had set a pair of traveling mugs on the counter and was packing breakfast and lunch. I raised a brow. He smiled, "Trust me. It's the most important meal of the day and we can afford to eat it."

"Please don't bring up the potato famine, it's only ten," I replied, taking the mugs. He zipped the top of his bag and took the umbrella from my hand, getting the door for me. "Keys?" he asked. I nodded, slipping into the hall. "Phone?" "Charging in the bedroom, do you have yours?" It was his turn to nod as he made sure the door locked. "Let's just pray Vinnie learns boundaries."

Our other flat-mates would be pouring out into the rain any moment now; to beat the traffic to the garage, we took the steps two at a time and he popped open the umbrella before we were even outside. He held the umbrella over my head, joining me less than a second later and beginning the trek across the flooded pavement. "This is horrible," I muttered, "Not that I enjoy the sun any, but we had to go into one of the corners of the globe that gets nothing but rain."

"You're from Chicago," he reminded me, "I'm from Ireland. We know only the watery evils."

A rumble of thunder punctuated our entrance to the garage. I beeped the car to remind myself where he'd parked- we hadn't seen much use of it since the weekend- and headed in that direction with my heels clicking against the concrete. Bram paused to shake out the umbrella, fold it and clasp it. As I neared, the vague sounds of murmuring reached my ears. I slowed, making my steps barely audible as I approached the car. I slipped between the cars, unlocking ours just as I caught sight of Coach Dewy walking between the others, seeming to inspect them. He was muttering none too quietly in a language that took a moment to process, but I guessed it was Vietnamese. I ducked in the car, pulling the door shut to watch through the windshield. I felt as if he could hear me, so I set the travel cups down silently in the cup holder and took my time to loop my bag over my head and seat it on the floor of the passenger side. He walked around the front of the car diagonal to ours, kneeling down and inspecting the grill. He looked at something that wasn't there, plucking the air and examining absolutely nothing between his fingers. He looked up, meeting my gaze. I jammed the keys in, threw the car in reverse and put distance between us. The tires screamed as they peeled up and were suddenly halted. Bram opened the passenger side door and slipped in, "Well, that was new."

I locked the door, giving him the time to situate himself. His brows furrowed, "You look like you've seen a ghost." I glanced at him, "No, just _Thirty Days of Night._"

His eyes lifted, finally noticing the coach stepping over the parking barricades. Normally I wasn't startled by things like that, but human or monster, psychopaths that were well-trained in the usage of weapons were not a good idea to be around. "Drive," Bram muttered. I nodded, switching gears and peeling out into the rain. I saw Charlie shielding his head with a newspaper and Ruth wandering with her delicate umbrella at his side. I glanced to them out of the window and she grasped his shoulder to stop him where he stood, her eyes meeting mine. I rolled down the window, idling for a moment, "Walk."

"What's going on?" she called.

"Just walk. Trust me."

"Can we climb in the back then?" Charlie asked, his boyish eyes wide. It wasn't exactly safe, but I wasn't going to turn them away. I rolled up the window and unlocked the car. He burst for the back, pulling open the doors of the hearse and ducking inside. Ruth closed them behind them and we started off slowly again. Bram's phone was out, no doubt alerting Vinnie and Walter to walk. I picked up speed as we headed down the scenic side road toward the small parking garage of the main building. Bram kept glancing at me, seeming to notice that I was more out of sorts than I was letting on. Ruth and Charles remained quiet for a while before she spoke gently, "So, the day that we have for our usual Broadway trip is coming up. Miss Liz is encouraging us to go see something. Wicked was good, but I'm not sure anything will measure up to Taboo."

"We'll see when we get there," Bram murmured.

"I wanna see the Lion King," Charles replied in a very small voice. My stomach knotted and for a moment, I was going to be sick. It finally registered that he was a _child_ among us. A great lot of us were old in soul, in mind, maturity and heart, but he was still a boy. Bram's hand rested over mine, questioning with his eyes. I let go of the wheel to squeeze his hand in silent reassurance.  
I had grown up with death. I had grown up with struggle and fearlessness and the power to adapt and somehow never change. My heart was open and my mind was probably more closed than I anticipated, but they wandered. I went where I wanted and stayed where I was needed, and I had never put much of myself into question. We were vampires, we were evil, sinful and overly sexual, it just was what it was. We raised ourselves above the others by fact and by clinging to traditions that separated the general masses from the elegant likes of us. And very suddenly, I wanted to buy a mansion in the middle west and take Charles, Ruth and Vinnie very far away from here.

Pulling in, I let them climb out and thank us for the ride before budging. We sat alone in the silence, allowing my recent confusion to dissipate. "I'm going to call my father and see if he can't take Charles in."

Bram raised a brow at that, "Why?"

"So I won't have to go home, but he'll have someone to watch out for him." There were many other reasons all tied to the horrifying mental image of the boy I cared for dead in various horrific ways. There was humanity in me, I clung to it. I was a monster, but I was still more human than the humans. When I looked at him, I begged him to see that. He thought it over and nodded once. I grasped my bag, but he caught my arm, "You know something's wrong. You feel like something very horrible is going to happen."

"Every moment since I've come back," I murmured, "It's building like a sickness."

He slid his hand down to mine and gave a gentle squeeze, "I'm always going to be here, I hope you know that. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. It's more than a promise."

I sunk back in the seat and met his eyes, "I love you, Bram. But you know what kings do when an empire is about to crumble."

He smiled lightly, "We'll make it to the lifeboat of the Titanic if we have to jump ship, I promise."


	11. Chapter Eleven

_Chapter Eleven_

The library of Belfry Prep was a massive building, two stories high itself and almost adjacent to the cafeteria. I had left my things with Bram in the quest for a leisure read; in three and a half years, I knew every book in this library. There were a few thousand, some of them older than I was. After browsing the little section of new ones, I decided to ascend the stairs to find one of the fourteenth century books that would take a bit of work to translate. The little spiral stairs creaked under my gentle footfalls, reminding everyone present of their age and their usefulness. No sooner had I rounded the corner when a blurring shadow took hold of both of my arms. Instinctively, I grasped ahold of them and attempted to break them, only to find myself partially over the railing of the upper story, my nails embedded in the sinewy forearms of Coach Dewey.

"How much did you see?" he growled quietly. If I'd been wearing heels, it might've been easy to control when I fell, but at this point I was at his mercy and I could only hope that I could time it well enough to land on my feet.

"You mean there was something I wasn't supposed to?" I snapped in reply. Instead of letting me fall, his hand shifted to my elbow and tugged me back, righting me on my feet. Eyes like burning coals met mine and seemed to drive his warning like a stake into my soul, "There are things around here that you don't realize are going on, Fangtell. You're a quick thinker, you'll survive it, but you need to get out now while you can."

"What's going on?" I murmured, natural curiosity coupling with the thrill of real mortal danger and creating a lethal concoction in my veins; there was no way in hell I was going anywhere now. He released my arms suddenly, alerting me to the presence of footsteps ascending to us. The grave sobriety in his eyes was hypnotic. I wanted nothing more than to dive into his mind and learn every secret that he was keeping, witness every memory firsthand. Intellectuals were the best measure of when to fight and when to flee, but even I had to admit the desire to remain during such an obviously grim circumstance was borderline insane, even for me. He turned and began a quick decent suddenly, faltering the coming steps and giving me the chance to disappear as if the exchange had never taken place.

There was a moment of silence throughout the great building as soon as the last of the steps had been completed. They even masked the others. There was a thrilling sense of dread at being alone on the level with someone else, identity unknown. Were they a spy? A liaison to a secret human organization? Were there hunters in our midst? Hunters approaching? Obviously we weren't safe, and it drove two desires very frantically forth- firstly, I had to tell Bram as soon as we were alone. Secondly, I had to remove little Charles from this situation entirely.  
Tiffany stepped out from the stacks not two feet away from me as I admired the classical literature with the embroidered pages. She stared at me in absolute silence until I spoke, turning the dated pages and taking in the lovely old book smell. "You've never looked the first edition type."

"Stay away from that freak," she murmured, "He's lost it, Gory. A long time before you got here."

The thrill still hadn't lost its edge. I gently shut the old text and replaced it on the shelf, glancing to her with a raised brow, "They said the same thing about Tesla, look where we are now."

"Tesla was a visionary, not a traumatized old veteran attempting to teach hatred to the impressionable."

I laughed, walking down the rows to the other well-preserved first editions. One of my personal favorites sat on the shelf where I'd left it last, right beside potentially the most ironic thing I'd ever laid eyes upon. In all honesty, I'd read every good book in this library, why I kept coming back never made any sense. At times, I could admit that Tiffany had a point, she was just as misguided as a freshman. She thought she knew everything and pursued her ideals with honor that was almost respectable if it weren't so intrusive. The library was much like her; once you'd heard all the points and read all the books, it became gloriously mundane. She followed me anyway, even as I went to the railing and climbed up on it, perching on the very edge with my feet dangling a story over the carpeted concrete floor.

"Why do you take everything I say as a joke?" she replied, her eyes glinting with loathing.

"Because you talk like a clown," I replied. I was tempted to pry off a boot and let it drop, but I didn't. Some impulses were too childish to indulge.

"He's nuts, Gory, he's fucking homicidal. You saw what he did to that werewolf, and she was domesticated. Do you know what he'd do to any of us? He'd kill us. He knows how."

I rolled my eyes and glanced to her, "Then why hasn't he?"

She didn't speak; if there were three words anyone at this school had a problem saying, it was _I don't know._ she'd probably argue with herself until she gained an answer- _he's waiting for something_ or _it's not in his plans yet._ I was done listening. I drew my feet up, almost horizontal on the railing, and pushed myself off. The instinct reached her and she rushed to the edge, but my free-fall only lasted a second.

I couldn't put the process of transformation into words. The first time I'd accomplished it, I had been eight years old and I hadn't had anything to compare it to but a hot bath of magic. Now, in my age, it was almost sexual. A warm tingle spread across my skin before something I could only imagine was sheer and utter peace enveloped my mind, body and soul entirely. I closed my eyes and felt the quick shift; skin became soft, dark and leathery, clothing became fur, arms wings and feet taloned and my entire five-foot-six-inch body was compressed into a vampire bat. By the time the prolonged blink ended, I was gliding through the air at a miniscule size with a boundless amount of power focused in the center of my abdomen like a tightness.

My wings guided me out of the library on instinct. I fluttered up the opposite stairwell into the control booth where the technical crew resided for productions, out that main window and onto the catwalks. The tightness relieved very suddenly, landing me on my hands and knees on the catwalk above the house. Stretching my coiled muscles, I rose slowly and took my time sauntering over to the space above the stage. A long-forgotten eraser for a projectile, I flicked it in Bram's direction. His eyes lifted, attention successfully attracted, and he broke into a wicked smile. He glanced about before grasping our bags and shifting himself, dragging them up onto the catwalks. He landed inches away, shaking out the aftermath with a roll of his shoulders. His eyes snapped up to me like a playful cat's. I grinned, crawling closer, "You'll never guess what just happened."

"You had a magnificent tryst in the library with a Honduran prince?" he teased, drawing my body closer before guiding the both of us down against the treaded sheet metal of our perch. I laughed, running my hands gently over his chest, "No. But I did encounter the coach." His brows raised and I lowered my voice, describing the entire ordeal in vivid detail. His eyes shifted from concern to the raw desire of a treasure hunter on the brink of something huge. His hand traced over my hip, smoothing my skirt and leaving warm tingling of his own on my skin. "Now that's something," he murmured, "And she's that defensive...perhaps he warns of her?"

Humans, lycans, hunters, Tiffany, there were so many options that it boggled my mind. I'd always loved adventure stories, mysteries and horror thrillers. I ran my fingers over the buttons of his shirt lightly, "I want to get my father to reply soon, then I can find out if he can take Charles and we can move in on whatever this is."

"That silly notion is still in your head?" he asked, raising a brow, "I suppose if you're that concerned I could call my mother tonight. Sean's no doubt gone home, she'd love to have someone at the manor to dote on."

I broke into a beaming smile and kissed him. A soft, possessive growl slipped from his mouth against mine, urging my fangs to find purchase. I squirmed, causing him delight. A light laugh fell from his kiss-reddened lips, his eyes slowly opening to mine, "What about you?"

"What about me?" I murmured as he propped up on his elbow, rolling onto his side to face me. I turned onto mine as well, making sure my clothes were righted properly, "I want to stay. I want to see what's going on."

"If there's really as much danger as you think there is, I think we should consider leaving."

For once, our roles were reversed. I patted the metal beneath us, stressing the promise of adventure with my eyes. Amusement tinted his smile, "At least let me pack up a bit and send some off to Ireland."

My eyes widened, "Ireland? You'd want us to leave the country?"

"My mother was getting quite worried about you. If you would humor me for a few months...but that's only if we need flee. I'll have to let her in on it, you know. She'll happily stash things for us."

The prospect of downsizing my closet hurt my soul a little. He laughed, "I'm joking. Do you have any idea how quickly my mother would tell us to leave? There wouldn't be any adventure." My eyes must've lit up quite a bit, for he crawled closer and brushed his thumb over my cheek, "But if you did want to go, I wouldn't protest."

I grinned, challenging him, "What happened to adventure?"

We were young and therefore had the right to be stupid. I wasn't about to run away from the most entertaining thing that had happened in years, especially not if it was going to be as colossal as I hoped. I moved imperceptibly closer, whispering to him, "If we solve whatever is coming, they'll look to us like kings, Bram. We won't just know everyone's names and their snippets from the yearbook anymore, we'll be royalty. This is the first step."

His eyes lit with that prospect. Sure, Belfry Prep was no human race, but once we had them, we had support enough to spread, arise and conquer. It suddenly seemed like a very easy life goal. His eyes, normally so composed and warm became infinitely warmer. He was brimming with confidence and pride, the sheer determination in his gaze bordering on madness. My family had only recently come into privilege, his had fallen from grace with the collapse of the previous empire. We were taking back what we had, like Mussolini to the Romans. I imagine if it hadn't stricken us both so hard so suddenly, he might've thanked me. Instead, he kissed me warmly and rose, eyes glinting with gratitude, "We have plotting to do."


	12. Chapter Twelve

_Chapter Twelve_

Despite the rain, I made an effort to stay for Training. When the coach walked in and took notice of us dressed as we were, he scoffed and set down a coffee cup in the corner of the room before walking toward us. It was potentially the most normal I'd ever seen him, and his eyes wandered back to me every so often. I felt as if we held something tangible between us, some dark and horrific secret that would ruin us both if it were discovered. It sent warm chills across my nerve endings and I couldn't help but smirk as if it were greater than it was.

"How many of you girls wanna stay pretty?" he asked. Instantly, half the class sat. I didn't. Vinnie didn't. Bram certainly didn't, and neither did Jonas. His dark eyes locked on me, "Whataya say, Fangs? Wanna go at each other like a couple of those half-breeds you love so much?"

I set down my bag, wordlessly leaving the safety of its contents to Bram, "I'll knock you out if it'll shut you up." Tiffany scooted to the edge of her seat. Walter held Ruth's hand as she looked away. Vinnie plopped down beside my boyfriend, "Now this is gonna be good."

Jonas walked into the center of the room. He wore a plain, dark waistcoat vest over a red long-sleeved thermal, the sleeves pushed up to his elbow. He was in dark jeans, hardly well dressed but apparently enough to get away with it. His eyes glinted as I stared at him with a raised brow, waiting for him to move. Like a predatory cat, he arched his back and coiled before striking, lowered into a crouch of attack. I skirted it and kicked him in the face. Our classmates laughed; Vinnie bit a knuckle to contain his laughter. Jonas allowed his predatory posture to evaporate for a moment as he held his face. Blood streamed from the obvious break in his nose. He righted it into smoothness with a sharp crack, blood continuing to torrent down his face, "My turn."

His foot struck out swiftly, nearly knocking me off my feet. I planted the soles of my boots against the ground and used his momentum to grasp ahold of him. He grasped my arm, grinning, and slammed me onto my back. My breath released in a sharp huff. His hand closed down around my throat, drawing his fist back. I kneed him in the groin. He nearly let go, but not before following through on the punch. Bram and Walter were on their feet instantly, ever the gentlemen. I'd bit my tongue on impact and the warm, somewhat bittersweet taste of my blood in my mouth awoke something far from ladylike. He recoiled and I withdrew, turning and snapping back to punch him directly in the sternum and send him sliding back a few feet. Despite his pain, he got up anyway and darted back in hopes to catch me off guard. I snapped to my feet and punched him in the face. He grabbed my wrist and I slammed my foot into his knee. He nearly crumpled. With a smirk, I drew back my other arm to backhand him, but he grasped ahold and wrenched my body around so I was trapped under the granite-strong bands of vampiric muscle that made up his arms. He panted in my ear, drops of his blood falling onto my exposed skin, "Wanna kiss and make up before you get hurt?"

I pretended to think on it for a heartbeat before closing my eyes, steeling myself and sharply head butting him. He dropped like a fly. My head throbbed, but it had worked. Bram took a step, but the coach was already at my side. I don't think in the history of the class, Coach Dewey had ever stepped out of his space to aid anyone. He probably hadn't aided anyone. He rested a hand on my side, turning me toward him. After deeming that my glasses were in one piece, he spoke in a very quiet tone unlike his usual, "Seeing double?"

I smirked and shook my head, "No sir. It'll heal in a minute."

He looked at me, slight blood-hunger in his eyes. Instead, he took a napkin out of his pocket and placed it in my hand, "Take a break, soldier."

I wiped the little stream of blood from my mouth and nodded, returning to sitting at Bram's side. He pulled me close, examining my face and very tenderly touching my hair. I smiled slightly, "It doesn't hurt. I did just give myself a tongue piercing, though."

He chuckled and kissed my forehead, "You scare the hell out of me."

"Now that was a real fight," Vinnie replied, grinning from ear to ear, "You knocked that psychotic little fucker out."

"Vincent," Walter chastised.

"Hey, it's true. Gory kicks more ass than the majority of guys here. You know, 'cept me." Bram looked at him with a slight challenge in his eyes. Vinnie grinned, refusing to take the comment back. The coach actually had a small smile on his features as he glanced at us, "Go home. Especially you, Fangtell. Get yourself something nice, you impressed me."

Not a soul moved. I broke into a beaming smile, taking the compliment to heart. They stared at me with absolute shock. Bram shrugged, gathering our things and rising, "Well it shouldn't surprise me that you're that spectacular." I broke into a small smile, my standing apparently breaking the frost that settled over the others. Before leaving, I released Bram's hand to smile lightly and cross the room to the coach. He leaned against the wall, sipping his coffee. I hopped lightly over Jonas and stopped steps away from him, "Did I impress you enough to get the rest of the story?"

His eyes flicked to the others before nodding once, slowly. I waited, but it seemed to be the most I was going to get out of it then. I turned away, crossing around Jonas this time to take my bag from Bram and head home. His arm wrapped around me gently, his voice soft as he swung our umbrella back and forth gently, "I'm very proud of you." My lips quirked upward at the sentiment, but like most living a life of leisure, I'd worn out quickly. We made the quick walk out to the garage and I let him drive us back. My mind wandered over the events of the day, quickly trying to establish when I might find out exactly what was going on. I needed to sit Ruth down and ask her if she thought it would be wise to send Charlie back West. Maybe my father could come pick him up, or Bram's mother. By the time we'd pulled in, my mind had gone in circles so many times that it exhausted me to think of it. He shut off the car and allowed me a moment to compose my thoughts before leaving. I was about to open the door when he grasped my forearm sharply, "Stay still. Don't move." Immediately, he locked the doors and whipped out his phone. I glanced in the direction he'd been staring and froze.

It had to be a lycanthrope, there just wasn't any other explanation. Bears didn't look like that; bears were fatter and more furry. It was lean, thinly furred and vaguely human looking like a half-transformed beast. Thunder crashed and cracked and it howled. I glanced to him.

"They're running back," he murmured, "And it's going to follow."

I glanced to him, set down my bag and released its hand, "No, it's not."

It was in the same general placement the coach had been this morning, and it was looking for something. Bram straightened, likely to call out to me to tell me not to, but I had already unlocked my door and rose from the car. Dark, shiny eyes focused on my moving figure. I shut the door loudly, staring it in the face. Lesser men would've balked. I almost did. But there was nothing human in those dark, hateful eyes. I moved slowly backward, watching it crawl forward slowly. Bram's door began to open and I took off in a sprint. It slammed into the roof before landing on the pavement, sharp claws clicking against it as it closed distance quickly. I tore out into the rain and plunged across the lawn, whipping around midway. The torrential spring rain soaked everything quickly. The throngs of our friends and classmates paused on their respective ways to their dorms. I could see Vinnie's shock and Ruth's horror clearly. Tiffany and her friends went silent, staring. There were mere feet between it and I and it wasn't slowing in the slightest. This had to work. I counted backward from five in my head, stepping back slowly. When I reached one, I threw myself against the sopping ground and heard a deafening blast.

My glasses were streaked with dirty water, but I saw the impact of the gunshot in the creature's skull. Its eyes went very humanly wide before it crumpled backward. I looked up and met the hard, cold gaze of the coach. Finally tearing his eyes away from the beast on the ground, he looked me over before offering his hand. "I'm not sure if you've got some kind of complex or you're just stupid."

It was probably the closest I was going to come to a compliment from the man, so I took his hand and it for what they were, allowing him to help me to my feet. Adrenaline continued to rush through my body, and despite being dirty and soaked, I felt alive. I felt like I was seeing things truthfully for the first time despite my glasses being in the state they were.

"Is this what you're trying to fight?" I asked, standing under the rain with my hand in his. He suddenly looked very sane and very sad. "Go home. Clean up. And meet me in the library again in the morning."

"Thank you," I found myself murmuring. "This is pretty likely the second time you've saved us."

"Not us, you," he replied. The sentiment caught me off guard and I felt my eyes widen. He shouldered his gun and nodded in the direction of the garage, "At ease, Fangtell."

I took a step back, releasing his hand. The creature's eyes were open and unnervingly focused. The coach's focus resumed himself and I dashed back for the cover of the garage. Bram lingered under the overhang, his eyes burning darkly with a mixture of fury and relief. As soon as I was within grasping distance, he pulled me into his arms and crushed my body against his. I blinked the rainwater out of my eyes, slowly wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my cold cheek into his warm skin.  
"If I didn't love you so much, I'd..." The threat fell, replaced with a squeeze that took my breath away. "Judas Iscariot, woman, you can't _do these things_ to me. I'm too fucking old to worry about you like this."  
I sighed, squeezing him in return, "Then hush, you silly boy. You should know by now that I always have a plan."

He didn't bother to put up the umbrella, only slightly releasing me as we walked out into the rain and up to the dorm. Our flat-mates were gathered in the entryway, Charlie's hair glistening with raindrops. Vinnie snatched me out of Bram's grip to pull me into a tight squeeze, "Alright Fangs! That's the badass I'm talkin' about!"

I shook my head and lightly pushed his shoulders, "A lady doesn't start fights, Vinnie, she finishes them."

"You finished that quite nicely," Walter replied as I was set on my feet. My face warmed slightly. Bram glided through them, resting a hand on my back, "If you'll all excuse us."

"Yeah, yeah, go bang. Don't get too loud," Vinnie replied. I swatted him less than gently. He laughed, the sound echoing off the walls as we ascended the stairs together. I took the keys from him and unlocked the door, slipping inside and prying off my boots, "I feel like I've just swam the English channel."

"You look it too," he teased, setting our book bags down by the door and flipping the lock shut behind us. I set down my boots and placed the keys on the counter, turning to him with a sheepish glance. He smirked, enclosing the distance between us in a blur of speed. He gently guided my face upward on his fingertips, removing my glasses. I could see him, even with the rest of the world a blur. His warm, reddened lips pressed gingerly to mine. Involuntarily, I drew in a breath and released it in a sigh against his lips. The parting of my lips allowed him to continue, bringing warmth from the very slowly-pulsing center of my body and radiating it outward. My fingers grazed his, interlocking our hands before caressing up his arms and winding mine around his neck. He wrapped an arm around my back and boosted my body gently, only breaking our kiss to murmur against my mouth between tiny, punctuating ones. "How about a warm bath and a nap before studying?"

"Will you be joining me?" I murmured, fingers winding in his shirt as he carried me into the bathroom.

"If you'd like," he murmured, setting me on the edge. I wished I could've mustered the proper blush as our eyes met, his successfully melting whatever icy exterior I had left after dealing with our peers. His hands fell to my waist, curling around the hem of my shirt and slowly pulling it up and off. The effects of being in love with him could be felt instantly; I felt airy and weak, joyful and vulnerable and completely safe in my exposed emotion. I ran my fingers slowly through his hair, reveling in the soft touch of his mouth to my skin over and over again. He removed the corset gently, nuzzling into my neck as he folded it and dropped it to the floor. His fingers grazed my sides as if he were worshipping an idol of a deity and it made my heart swell.

"You're so flawless," he breathed against my skin, sending chills up my spine.

"You're such a wonderful liar," I teased, tracing my fingers over his shoulders.

He withdrew to meet my gaze and shook his head lightly, "I could never lie to you. You render me incapable." He captured my lips and kissed me with the sure, raw euphoria that enlightened me to his fears. He was just as suspicious as I, and until we had definitive answer, he would indulge himself as if he'd never see tomorrow. Agreeing fully, I tugged off his shirt and continued shimmying off my clothes until, with a grin, I tugged him into the water with a playful splash.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

_Chapter Thirteen_

Before it was even time for class in the next morning, I woke and readied to head down to the school. Like every morning, I checked up on things I'd missed while sleeping and found a message from my father. Two simple words, but exactly what I needed to hear. _I'm alive._  
"Smartass," I muttered, replying quickly. _Good to know. Try to let me know when you drop off the face of the earth next time._ Hitting send and signing out, a light tap at the door caught my attention. I clicked my computer to power off and let it do its thing, slipping silently out of the bedroom and crossing the floor to peek out. Swift as a shadow, the coach slid past me and locked the door. I froze for a moment, eyes wide with surprise. The only thing that crossed my mind for a solid minute in my vanity was _for Christ's sake, I'm still in my pajamas._ Up close and without much else to take in, I finally noticed that Coach Dewey did in fact look like a soldier- or a hunter. I had never noticed him very much; he was insane, for all intents and purposes, and much farther off than most. But he had short, thick hair the color of the darkest point of night and equally dark eyes- they resembled glassy coals more than rubies. There was a hard set of his jaw that spoke of ages of discipline and grief. And he was built, like he could take ahold of someone's head and crush it like a watermelon bound in rubber bands. I was staring, but it was a lot of sensory detail to take in. That, and he didn't smell like blood or cologne or a combination of the two- he just smelled like soap and Axe. He didn't try, he didn't care, he just was. It drew respect out of me involuntarily.

"Coffee?" I almost squeaked. Somehow my voice managed to remain steady in the presence of the hulking soldier I'd never taken notice of. He shook his head and moved toward our sofa, "The library is crowded this morning."

"Oh," was all I could reply, stupidly. I was still reeling with surprise that he even knew where to find me, even if it must've been common knowledge. I walked over, tightening my burgundy satin housecoat over my simple nightgown- it was about a hundred years old and I still loved it regardless. I smoothed my skirt and perched on the edge, suddenly very aware that it was very cold and my bare feet weren't cloaked inside a blanket. The sun hadn't even risen yet. He glanced around the room slowly as if taking it all in before glancing to me. A brow rose gently and the instinct to pinch the housecoat at my throat arose, but instead he silently lifted the trinket around my neck and stared at it as it rested upon the pad of a brawny, rough finger. It was a little golden heart with a faceted face and two dainty silver devil horns protruding from its crest to loop through the thin gold chain, a forked tail of a deeper gold flicking out to its side before wrapping around to touch the trough of the heart. He ran his fingers over the rough face, contrasting the rest of the smooth necklace and muttered, "Irish give you that?"

"My father did," I replied, suddenly aware that I was perched very rigidly on the edge of the sofa and relaxing considerably. "It was a Christmas gift. He went out in the morning of Black Friday, got me the last one."

He smiled absently and let it fall. I waited for what seemed like an eternity before he sat back, seeming to finally relax, "He must be very proud of you. All that you've accomplished in your short life."

"I'm three hundred and sixty eight this year," I replied.

He smiled lightly, "I was born during the rule of Richard the Lion-heart."

My heart seemed to jump slightly. All that first-hand history was getting to me. He shifted slightly and regarded me as one would regard their own child, slight amusement and pride, "They've done studies. The most intelligent people talk to themselves."

I glanced at the floor, my face warming. I wished it were visible. "I'm sorry about that," I murmured, "It's not exactly easy to speak freely around you. You're...quite imposing."

"I know." He chuckled at his own response, dark eyes glinting, "But that's not why I'm here. You wanted to know what I know, don't you?"

I nodded. I felt like a little girl being let in on a big, grown-up secret. I shifted closer and propped up against a pillow. The amusement had flickered out and he regarded me for a moment with absolute sorrow evident on his features. "A pack of werewolves across the border wanted to expand their lands. That would mean coming into our territory. They sent scouts, we sent them back. They've kept coming, though. They're strong, from what I've seen. A few of them are probably the rebels that were involved in the war to begin with. Some of them are quite old, they look to be functioning as a tribe. They probably were before all this Americanizing shit began and the wars broke out."

My chest grew tight before bursting with excitement. I'd never get back to sleep now, "So they're going to attack us? We're going to have a turf war?"

"If they were going to attack, they would've done it by now. They're waiting for something, keeping tabs on us, maybe trying to learn our ways. The headmaster thinks they want to scout, assess and compromise, I'm not so optimistic. I've beaten these things before. They're animals, Fangtell. No matter what anybody tells you, those things are worse than animals. Animals don't hunt for sport."

The tightness returned as he rose. He looked down at me with the authority of a man who'd given this speech before. I was thrilled, enthralled and terrified at the same time. His eyes bore into mine as if trying to bend my will. I broke into an involuntary smile. His scowl only deepened, "I want you to start spreading word to go on a prolonged vacation, all the girls and the lower classmen. Take some of the guys, but if you wanna leave the psycho across the hall, that'd be nice."

They planned on going to war here. I stood, "If there's going to be a battle, I'm going to be in it."

"Like hell you are," he replied, "Safety matters. We'll have a couple boys acting as field doctors, we'll be fine."

"You need me," I persisted. He started toward the door and I followed, "I beat Jonas, I lured the thing off the car, I can take anyone and anything and I can handle a war, don't treat me like I'm any different than one of the boys!"

He turned suddenly and sharply, looking me over, "Because you are. Yeah, all the boys here are spoiled, rich little brats but they can man up with combat. You're pretty. You're at best a distraction and you're going to get them killed."

Defiance boiled up in the center of my chest. "I'm not leaving, but I'll see to it that they do."

He rested a hand on the doorknob, staring directly into my face, "I watched the last girl that said that die in a marsh in Vietnam when two of those things dragged her into a minefield."

I straightened, my chin rising slightly involuntarily, "Then watch your explosives. I'll learn how to use them."

There might've been a flicker of amusement in his eyes, but it was only in passing. His grip tightened, turning it before adding one last thought. It gave me sudden clarity on everything about him and shook my will while also reaffirming that I was indeed staying, for more reason than to indulge my thrill-seeking. "She was my daughter."  
I had no reply. I watched him leave like a shadow and silently locked the door after him. Once upon a time, those dogs had revolted. They had slaughtered our kind, and we in turn had slaughtered theirs. The wars had spanned a century with moments of peace and ebbed out around the beginning of the previous century. But the knowledge that they continued to hate us so deeply, that they would kill the way we did, seemed to release all the tension in my body. It was revolutionary, I suppose, to plan to slaughter a village. I didn't notice Bram in the doorway. I didn't know he was awake at all until he joined me at the counter, pausing beside me and propping up on his elbow, "Did I really just hear you agree to go to war?"

My eyes turned on him, lips set in a hard line. My voice was lost among my swirling thoughts, plans and contingency plans forming already. I needed a pen and paper. I went back into the bedroom, took a yellow notepad and a glossy purple gel pen out of the cup of writing utensils and returned, sitting at the counter and plotting. He sighed, taking the seat beside me, "He is right, you know."

My eyes snapped up, "What?"

He toyed with my hair, shrugging, "You're pretty. You'll distract them."

"Then I'll cut off all my hair and pull a Mulan," I replied, staring down at the paper before me. I poured every thought out onto it. He wrapped an arm around me, "No, no you're not. Your hair is short enough. And I would know that delicious figure of yours whether you tried to contain it or not."

It might've made me blush at any other time, but it wasn't working now. Bram took my chin and turned my face, his hold firm enough not to be ignored. Grudgingly, I tore my eyes from the paper and met his own. "I have the utmost faith in you, but for god's sake your hubris is enough to get you killed. All of us are out of our league. We can try to prepare, but there's only one way we'll be truly safe, and that's getting the hell out of here."

"Queens don't run," I reminded him.

"Of course not, but if things go to hell, we're taking the long route out of town and not looking back, do you understand?" His eyes were cool, collected and calm. He'd probably been making plans of his own while listening. I sighed, putting down my pen, "We have to pack, now don't we?"

"I'm going to wake Ruth and Charlie. I want them on the first flight out of Maine tomorrow."

He rose, crossing the room to slip into his burgundy suede, lined house shoes. I glanced him over, "How dangerous do you think this really is?"

He turned back to me, his eyes betraying more than the somewhat confident tone let on, "I'd like to take you and go with them." He allowed the words to sink in as he turned and slipped out into the hall. I heard his feet padding down the stairs, and against my better judgement I went to the bedroom, got my laptop and set up a miniature war shop in the kitchen while making cold cereal for breakfast and looking at flights.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

_Chapter Fourteen_

This is my kingdom.  
The thought crossed my mind as the cold wind fluttered my hair, the overcast skies promising a real hellish storm, even if the newscasters had said it would remain simply cloudy. After the lycan attack, not only were the superiority complexes back with a vengeance, but everyone was rattled. Even Tiffany. Her clique of cats approached our flat while Vinnie and I waited outside. The greaser was chain smoking, dropping the butts in the concrete pot full of sopping gravel and sand left beside the door for that purpose. I had really become their queen, especially if the cats were looking at me with reverence and respect.

"Gory?" she asked quietly. I rose a brow, shifting slightly to mirror Vinnie's no-nonsense lean. She offered a little parchment card with a gold insignia, piquing my interest a bit more. I took it from her hand, reading the delicately scripted note over before pausing to process it, "You want me on your cheerleading squad?"

Vinnie snorted, choking on a puff of cigarette smoke. Tiffany glanced at the pavement, her friends mirroring her like a squad of weeping angels. I was almost afraid to blink. "Actually...we want you to lead it."

"The boys want Bram on the basketball team too," one of her friends with two-toned hair and a puff-sleeved blouse offered up, "They think you guys have to be either psychos or a lot tougher than we let on."

I had to have stepped into a parallel universe. Cliques and general nerds never meshed well. I glanced to her, surprised to see the remorse in her expression. Perhaps she was reconsidering her abrasiveness or maybe she just wanted guidance. For some young vampires like her, this was probably nothing she'd ever experienced. I sighed, tucking it gently in the front of my bag, "When's practice?"

"About a month before we go to competition," she replied, "What, you thought we played regular game before the tournaments?"

I laughed, "Of course not."

She smiled slightly, relaxing visibly. Bram stepped out of the house to us, followed closely by a flushed and teary-eyed Ruth, clutching Charlie's shoulder to hold him close as if he were her own child. She looked at Vinnie, causing him to straighten. Bram glanced to us, brow raised.

"Congratulations, sweetheart," I teased, "They want you on the basketball team."

"Is football next?" he asked, probably thinking it was a joke.

"Do you want to be on football?" I asked, "Because you've just been elected king, what you say goes."

His eyes widened and he looked to Tiffany for confirmation. Life achievement unlocked, apparently. She nodded, smiling slightly in his direction. Bram glanced to me; he had absolutely no interest in sports, but in politics one did what they had to in order to be king. He smirked, offering his arm, "Will you cheer me on?"

"She's the captain now," Tiffany said with delight.

He chuckled, stepping onto the damp grass, "Of course she is."

My lips twisted upward. I was content to revel in the praise and the glory, so long as we could share it. A tiny, selfish piece of myself said that I should've had to play a hand in it, but it was comforting to see that we had more easily manipulated, well-educated beings to work with than the common peasantry.

By Literature, everyone from the programming majors to the homemaking and tradeship interns had heard of the incident, and we spent the majority of class talking about it as if we were holding a press conference instead of reading war novels- and I couldn't have been more grateful. Thankfully, most of our Current Events had been news about the Oregon monsters and how they were "changing and shaping a new world for every species of man imaginable." Right.

Bram and I cut out for lunch, heading back to the flat to aid Ruth and Charlie in packing and found Vinnie's Impala pulled up to the curb. My throat tightened. I dashed up the stairs ahead of him, walking in the open door of Vinnie's flat, "Are you leaving?"

Three fully-packed boxes sat on his floor, a pair of suitcases, his book bag and duffle bag balanced on top of them. He was packing blood into a cooler, a shopping bag of groceries on the table, "Nah, we're running like a family of Jews waitin' for the Gestapo."

It was the first history reference I'd ever heard him make and it struck me that it might be the last. He shut the refrigerator and the cooler before carrying it and a few bags out to the car. I backed up, dropping my bags on the stairs. Bram flashed him a small smile, leaving his bag beside mine and picking up a fully-loaded box. I crept into Ruth's flat. She was wiping her eyes, boxing pillows while Charlie stacked up ornate silver garbage cans. The cabinets hung open and everything was bare. It had never occurred to me that other people lived sparsely enough to run in a moment's notice, though I imagined Ruth's level of packing was considerably more than the Impala could hold. She sniffed, wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Her eyes lifted and fixed on me, "Oh Gory, I'm so sorry."

My eyes teared. I crossed the room to her and pulled her into a tight, warm embrace, "Hush now, it's alright. Where are you going?"

"Oregon," she exhaled, smiling slightly, "We're going to give this place a chance. We'll send word, I promise."

Charlie sighed, draping himself over the sofa, "I can't believe you're carting me around like a kid."

"You're a hundred and fifty years younger than me, you are a kid." Ruth's response was shaky. I gave her arms a gentle squeeze, picking up a box, "Charlie, help us pack up the car."

"Gladly," he said, probably happy to finally be of use. Ruth picked up one of her own and walked out to the car. Vinnie's boxes had been packed in, and with the addition of these, the trunk was nearly full. He and Bram continued to arrange them, though, as we took the possessions out of the house. The furnishings were obviously staying, but in the process of a few more suitcases and boxes, it was as if three of my closest friends had never lived in the building at all. Ruth shut the door with a note attached and handed me a folded piece of parchment, "Give this to Walter when he comes home."

I clutched it, wrapping my arms around her tiny waist tightly. "Email often," I reminded her, "And please be careful."

She drew back, taking my face in her palms very maternally, "You are the one I have to warn for that. Bram can only do so much for you. It'd be wise of you to follow us."

I shook my head, "I might send some off Chicago bound, but I won't be leaving anytime soon. Trust me."

"We're ready to go," Charlie said, appearing in the door. His messy hair was even more flyaway with the wind. My heart clenched. I crossed to him and kissed his forehead firmly, giving him a squeeze, "Take good care of them. Be brave. Text me."

He rolled his eyes and squeezed me in return, "Okay Gory."

With the Impala thoroughly packed and Ruth and Charlie climbing in to leave, Bram and Vinnie shared a quick, _manly_ embrace. My lips twitched in a sad smile as he moved away from my boyfriend. He picked me up in a squeeze. A little laugh bubbled over my lips before he kissed them and set me on my feet, "We'll be in touch. Don't die."

"We're not those sparkly disgraces of vampires, you know. It takes a lot of effort to kill us," Bram replied.

Vinnie shook his head, glancing between us, "You're the dumbest smart people I've ever met."

I blew him a little kiss in return. He smirked, climbing inside and shutting the door firmly behind him. Bram's arm wrapped gently around me, squeezing my shoulders gently. They waved as they pulled away, like a little family going West on the highway in a past age. We watched until they disappeared around the bend. I let a few stray tears fall that simply couldn't be contained. Very lightly, he squeezed my shoulder once again, "They'll be alright. We'll get them back, provided they don't like it there."

"Maybe we'll have to vacation," I murmured with a sigh.

Very gently, he tugged me toward the flat. I paused, glancing over my shoulder instinctively. Walter came dashing up the lawn, pausing out of breath behind us, "Where are they?"

I glanced down at the folded piece of parchment in my hand and passed it off to him. His eyes filled with sorrow, moving past us to see the note on her door. He pulled it down, turned on his heel and stared at us, "Vinnie? Vinnie left?"

"They both love Charlie," I murmured, "They want to protect him."

It hadn't assuaged the grief any. Bram gently stepped up, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Walter, if you want to be a man, then don't wait. Pack a bag, hop on a plane and meet her there. We'll hold down the fort."

His eyes steeled and lifted as he shook his head. "I am staying. I hear words of a little war brewing, and I am going to stay where I am needed. Ruth will understand." I hadn't been aware of the spreading words of war, but as my eyes flickered to Bram, he didn't betray any doubt of it in the slightest.  
"Thank you, Walter. Come tomorrow, we prepare for the worst and hope for the best."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

_Chapter Fifteen_

Dinner that evening was quiet. Jonas was out, so ragtime music spilled out into the hall from the flat across from us where Isodora entertained Walter and his bruised ego. Bram had _Les Miserables_ by Victor Hugo in hand while he picked at dinner and I had my laptop on the counter beside me, transitioning between typing and bites of chicken. A quiet _ping_ sounded from my Skype and I opened the window to glance at my contact request.

_heartstopping_valentine wants to connect with you._

I smirked, indulging my curiosity and clicking the acceptance. He sent a message quickly. I minimized the window and continued typing, though the constant chiming was getting Bram's attention. He glanced up from his novel with slight curiosity, "Are you going to get that?"

"It's not a phone call," I replied, "and I'm working."

His eyes fell back to his page. A long moment of silence let my curiosity stew before I restored the window and read the text quickly.  
_Hello, Gory. Your father said I should speak to you directly to get to know you. For a man who supposedly has such a way with words, he seems rather at a loss to describe you._ That sounded familiar. _You see, he's just taken her for a client on a very important business matter that they both seem content to leave me ignorant to. _Moron, so will I. My father's business isn't any importance to me. _But you seem incredibly interesting from the stories I've heard._ You idiot, he's not trying to match-make me. If he is, I'll personally disown him- whether I end up disinherited won't matter in the long run anyway. I glanced to Bram and broke into a smirk. He seemed to notice instantly, "Whatever you're doing, consider the consequences before doing it."  
"Oh, I am," I replied.  
_Valentine, is it? My father's business is hardly any concern of mine, but it's nice to hear he still tells stories about me. I hope they're not too embarrassing. In any matter, I hope you don't take this as a set up. I'm already in an established courtship._

He began typing almost instantly- just to write _oh?_

_I'm a lesbian._

I waited, watching the blankness of a lack of reply before breaking down into uncontrollable laughter. Bram put his book down, the well-worn spine flexing to leave it open on the exact page as he leaned over my shoulder to read. He shook his head and leaned back, "Well, that would've been nice to know three years ago."

"The fastest way to shut up a vampire," I replied, grinning from pointed ear to pointed ear. For a moment, I forgot that our world was somewhat shifted. It actually slipped my mind that I was supposed to be in the agony of grief and that we were bordering on a potential turf war. I took another bite, watching Bram. His grin progressively widened, "He's not saying anything. Gory, I think you've scared him off."

"Good," I giggled, "That's what he gets for thinking he has a chance with me."

His eyes glinted as he rested his hand very gently on my knee. "You have quite the set of standards, don't you _cara mia?_"  
I shifted a bit closer, "Of course I do. You're the only man who's ever met them."

He moved his chair closer to mine, linking his arm around my shoulders, "My very own Morticia."

A small smile crossed my lips and I cuddled into his side, sighing softly. The forgetfulness wore off quickly, and as a chime came from the lower part of the screen, I relented and buried my face in his shoulder. My heart grew heavy with the knowledge that my truest friends had packed up and left for a city that would surely be eradicated soon enough, unless they fought back. I highly doubted they would if it came to it. He rubbed my bicep, placing a gentle kiss to my bangs and sighing softly at an echo of my grief, "Maybe we ought to just curl up and watch BBC. Get our mind off all this...war and equality and sorrow." I didn't budge. I didn't think I could; smothering the light against his skin was the only thing keeping the lump in my throat down toward the pit of my stomach. His fingers toyed with my uneven locks, his chin resting atop my head, "Unhappy, darling?"

"Oh yes," I murmured despairingly into his shoulder, "Yes completely."

He was on a kick and the references were lightening the mood just a bit. He gently took ahold of my arm and lowered his lips to the pulse point of my wrist, brushing gently up to my elbow, caressing to my shoulder and cupping my chin gently in his palm before placing a soft kiss on my lips. I pulled off my glasses almost violently to keep them away from the brimming tears threatening to escape at any moment. My chest clenched. He scowled, "I'm sorry if I've upset you."

I shook my head, my hand fluttering over my heart, "My parents used to do that." Once upon a many years ago...it felt like a past life. A few tears had spilled down my face when the ringing sound of my Skype interrupted us. I wiped my face furiously, turning back to the screen and clicking the window up to answer the call without putting my glasses back on, "Hello?" Bram placed the frames in my hand and I slid them on gratefully. A floating green dress and a series of pearly hair pins caused me to smile openly. I knew they were pinning back luxurious platinum blonde curls in the Lady Devein's hair. "Damn it, does this work?"

"We see as much of you as usual, Mother," Bram replied, breaking into an open smile.

"Well good thing you can't see all of me," she replied, settling in the luxurious Victorian chair, "How are you two? I didn't interrupt, did I?"

The effort it must've taken to wake at an hour to speak to us was enough to make me grateful instantly. I was so glad that she couldn't see the tears spilling down my face, as they started again at my surprisingly steady and calm tone, "Not at all, Maggie. Are you all well?"

"Sean still home?" Bram asked, propping up on his elbow.

"We're doing beautifully, sweetheart. How are you? Is your _Da_ alright?" Maggie seemed entirely focused on my well-being before adding, "No, he's gone home to Manhattan, bless him."

Maggie Devein was probably the only vampire to still make religious references in this day and age. Whether it was out of habit to throw suspecting hunters off her trail or out of genuine faith, I suppose I'd never know until I asked; now wasn't the time or the place, but the thought had crossed my mind more than once at odd times. I composed myself a bit more in tune with the soothing massage of Bram's palm in a small, firm circle against my spine. "We're doing well, all things considered," I managed. I was choking on the air. She must've crossed her arms across her chest, for her gown ruffled slightly, "Lie to yourself all you want, dearest, but you're not lying to me any. I've mothered two boys, I see through a strong face like it isn't there."

I had to get up. I couldn't cry in front of her, I couldn't cry in front of anyone. I could hardly cry in front of Bram. He ran his fingers through his hair, watching as I took off my glasses and crossed the room, drawing the curtains and leaning against them with my back to him, "Mum...this was a bit of a bad time. Some friends of ours decided to make the trip West to check out the village in Oregon."

"Those damn rowdy trouble-makin' kids," she replied, scoffing.

"Call it research," he half-muttered with clear exasperation in his tone, as if he'd said the words a million times before. The last thing I could do was doubt his acting ability. It made my chest clench and spasm, the tiny voice of insecurity in my mind screaming protests and doubts. I slipped down to the floor until my knees touched the hardwood, my fingers clenched in my shirt over my chest. Surprisingly, curled this way, I could breathe a bit easier. I wiped my face, righted my glasses and rose, forcing myself into a state of calm. Bram wasn't even looking at the screen, the concern evident in his soft ruby eyes. His mother was chatting rather casually about things in Ireland while she waited for my return. I smoothed my shirt, exhaled and obliged. As soon as I'd settled into my chair, she changed the subject. "I'm sorry, Gory."

"Don't be," I murmured, "It's perfectly alright. You're worried and I can't thank you enough for that."

"I'm gonna wire that boy there some money and make him buy you a ring so I can get away with calling you my daughter." The thought, no matter how comforting, only jutted out my lower lip slightly. I blinked until the tears withdrew into my eyes, nodding slightly. Our fingers laced together, a small smile crossing his lips, "I don't need a ring to marry her, Mum. I did a long time ago."

My cheeks grew warm, my thoughts flickering back to the first sweetly awkward time he'd gotten me in bed. Despite our ages, we were hard working people of class- neither of us had time to mess around with other people beforehand. If it was any consolation to my parents, he'd courted me for almost a year beforehand. If it was any consolation to his, we'd only thoroughly corrupted each other afterward. The part of my self that had been insecure moments ago seconded the statement completely; maybe that had been the moment that the line between the two of us had started blurring. We could very well be two halves of the same being if given the right amount of time. Even Maggie seemed taken aback a moment before replying, "You make me very happy to hear that. We raised you well."

He lifted my hand to his lips. I smiled, ignoring the _ping_ of Valentine's mental defrosting. "Everything is going as well as it possibly can, Maggie," I replied, my voice considerably more gentle and soft than it had been before, "Provided the next quarter goes well, we'll come see you over the summer after we visit my father."

I wish I could've seen her smile. From her tone, she must've been beaming, "Oh that'll be lovely! I'll get the guest house ready when you two make up your minds on a date, alright?"

I squeezed his hand, nodding slightly. His other rose to wrap around mine, bringing comfortable warmth to my skin. I yawned slightly, glancing down at my remaining dinner. He chuckled lightly, "I think we're going to turn in early tonight, Mum. We'll let you get back to bed."

She sighed in disappointment, "Gory, call me sometime, will you? I worry about you so much, darling. If I had a guarantee that I could send you food, I would."

I laughed lightly, "I'm alright to cook, Maggie. But thank you so much."

"Get some rest, it's good for your heart. You're more fragile right now than you think."

"I will."

She blew us a pair of loving, almost overly-maternal kisses and signed off. With the one hand I had free, I typed a quick goodbye to Valentine and a cheap excuse that hardly registered in my mind before signing off. I wrote something to Ruth with the same speed, sent it and powered down. Bram was gazing at me very much like I'd seen him stare at fine art, his smooth fingers tracing my own. "Sometimes I have a very hard time believing a being as flawless as you is mine."

I chuckled without substance, squeezing his hand gently, "Can we just turn in now? I honestly don't feel the urge to do anything but lay in bed with you and pretend to watch television."

He smiled, "I'll put away dinner, you pick what we pretend to watch."

I stole a light kiss, nodding lightly and closed my laptop. I slipped my thumb into placement in his book, taking them both with me. As I set down my laptop on the desk, I tugged open the drawer slightly and fished about for a bookmark. He'd probably laugh a bit, but the first one I removed from the cluster of disorganization was a delicate silver hook with a gold tassel hanging from the tip; one of mine. I smiled and tucked it in, bumping the drawer shut and resting the book in the place the remote had been. Peeling back the velvet duvet and climbing in, I turned on the first movie channel and left the remote on his side of the bed, tugging my pillow down a bit to cuddle into it. I took off my glasses and closed my eyes, grateful when- a moment later- he flicked off the light and gently shut the door in joining me. The bed shifted only slightly as he cuddled in against me, his arms wrapping tightly around my torso and bicep cushioning my head against my pillow. I tucked my feet between his ankles for warmth, nestling into the embrace as much as possible.

"Your grief hurts me," he murmured in my ear, "I want you to feel better. I want to heal you, but I don't know how. It's driving me mad."

"Hold me," I murmured, resting my hand over his against my ribs, "Just hold me and let me sleep. I'll be better in the morning."

"Does it ease at all? From my perspective, it doesn't look to be."

I sighed, tucking my face into the crook of his arm, "It's trying. It takes time, Bram. But I'm a lot better with you than I would be without you."

He was silent for a very long time, his warm breath fanning my neck and lulling me into a half-conscious state. I fluttered in and out of dreams, unsure what was on the screen between blinks and what played behind my eyelids. Very gently, he breathed words against my ear and placed a kiss to my pulse, "No matter what pain you cause me, Gory, I'd rather suffer through it all than live my life without you. You're the most important thing I have." He paused as if assessing just how true that was before adding gently as he laid down beside me, "Even more important than restoring my family's honor."

My heart throbbed. I couldn't hide the little smile that crossed my face; whether he was a legitimate king or not had never mattered. He'd always be the king of my heart whether he knew it or not.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

_Chapter Sixteen_

It was almost stifling when I opened my eyes. The air in the room was heavy with spring warmth and trapping our body heat under the duvet. I grunted in irritation and felt around the table for my glasses only to see the nudge of sunlight across the floor. I grasped them and practically sliced my skin with the speed I put them on and recoiled from the light. Bram's arm was wrapped in the body of a sweatshirt, one hand free to trap back the curtains as he opened the lock on the window and slowly nudged it to an acceptable height. He let the heavy curtains fall over it once again, cutting out the light while filtering fresh air into the room. I was staring at him like he'd finally lost his mind.

"It's morning, I forgot that we owned oven mitts until about three seconds ago."

I sat up properly, adjusting the pillows and smoothing my hair as I freed myself from the tangle of sheets, "I can see why your mother wanted to marry you off. Someone has to take care of you when all that blond takes full control of your brain."

He smirked, blurring with speed as he leapt onto the bed. I squealed and fell out in an attempt to duck away. Still, he grasped me and tugged me up onto the bed. I giggled, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing my lips very gently to his. He chuckled in reply, caressing my hair slowly, "You are so beautiful."

My face warmed, "It's morning, I don't even have makeup on." I was also pretty sure I'd been so deeply asleep I'd been salivating on the pillow, but if he didn't tell me about it, he must've loved me. His eyes glinted, tugging my body down gently on top of his and kissing me as if punctuating a thought. We kissed each other silly, cuddling while the curtains were stirred with warm breeze. A bit of sunlight flickered across the floor while a series of sharp knocks struck the outermost door. Bram sighed, rolling over on top of me and using the momentum to get to his feet and wander out of the bedroom. I stretched out along the mattress, yawning luxuriously. One foot at a time, I rose out of bed and wandered into the bathroom. It was a lovely day, the warmth giving off a sense of indulgence. I took my time doing my hair, tying it up into a short ponytail that somehow managed to be flattering and getting ready. I'd always be grateful for things in mists; they were the only time when I could attempt to see myself in the mirror from the places it floated around.

Fully dressed and ready, I wandered into the main room where Walter and Isodora perched on our couch. Bram, against the wall, stared at the both of them as if trying to validate whatever they had said with logic that just wasn't comprehending. I raised a brow, smoothed my skirt and perched on the edge of the table, "Who died?"

"Doctor Astor, apparently," Bram muttered, in motion once again. He ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled, "Apparently it was a suicide."

It caught my emotions off guard. Disbelief mingled with empathetic grief, "What? When?"

"Overnight," Walter replied, drawing my attention. His unnaturally stoic expression betrayed suspicion he wasn't yet voicing, "Hung from the rafters of our classroom."

"Thank God Ruth isn't here to see this," Isodora murmured.

"They've canceled classes today because of it." Walter's voice continued to be soft. It continued to attempt to comfort. Death was a very rare occasion among vampires, but the sheer volume of it lately was startling. My blood felt very cold very suddenly and I rose almost mechanically to go make myself some tea. Bram parted the curtains and gazed down at the barren lawn and far-looming building. My hands shook slightly as I produced a pair of teacups, setting them on the counter beside the stove. My ears were trained toward the main room, yet somehow I still froze when Bram spoke very quietly. "It was no single-handed suicide."

"What are you talking about?" Walter asked, shifting. I glanced over my shoulder as I set the kettle on the stove. Bram moved away from the window, meeting my gaze, "Think _A Study in Pink._ A suicide, yes, but a suicide caused by a murderer."

"Now I know you're watching too much BBC," Walter muttered. He stood slowly, "Come, Isodora. We have to go find your brother before he gets himself incriminated."

"Can we see the body?" I found myself asking.

Walter glanced to me, shrugging slightly. Isodora rose and crossed to the door behind him silently. "I guess so. From what I heard, it's still hanging in the classroom." We waited until they had left before grabbing hats and- in my case- a parasol. "Might as well wait on the tea until later," he muttered, glancing to me with a slight grin, "Murder. Isn't it thrilling?"

"You are as sick as Sherlock Holmes," I replied, pulling my gloves on before returning to the bedroom and shutting the window. He started out without me, leaving me to lock up quickly and catch up a few paces behind. The sky was unusually bright as we crossed the lawn. I felt eerily as if we were taking a stroll through Central Park a hundred and thirteen years in the past. A lovely little smile lingered on his features, suggesting that he was either having the same thought, or he'd really taken delight in the prospect of a murder in our midst. He tugged open the atrium door and glanced to me. I ducked inside before closing my parasol, flashing him a smile. He followed, gliding over the dark carpeting and down the hall to our classroom. The entire school seemed dark- hardly a light was on except for this room. It was lit as if it were prepared for the world's fair, and from the ceiling hung Doctor Astor's limp figure. A noose of solid silver cord was wrapped around his neck. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, long dried and set. I got chills down my spine simply from staring. My eyes flickered to Bram, a slow, twisted smile crossing my face, "Is Watson allowed to go first?"

He nodded, still studying.

"He looks terrified," I murmured, lowering my tone as if the killer would hear, "He was forced to do this."

"He was interrupted," Bram murmured. He walked into the room, picking up a pen from the pen cup and gesturing to our former teacher's half-lowered zipper, "He was in the middle of something a lot different than grading papers when his killer walked in on him."

I hopped up on the table and patiently allowed him to work out a proper hypothetical train of thought. He walked around the hanging corpse and glanced down, "The blood around his neck splattered quite a bit. But, it didn't reach under the desk. Someone else was here, probably the little lover. The killer had to be large and intimidating. As you said, he looks terrified. Who else would get a man to wrap a noose around their neck so there were no prints but theirs and..."  
He stopped short, staring at the desk top. I turned my head and caught sight of the faint white lines, "He didn't jump, he was pushed."

"He probably didn't see it coming in the slightest," Bram murmured, brushing his index finger across the scuffs before glancing at our hanging corpse. I shuddered. "You're brilliant." He shrugged, continuing to examine the room for anything pertaining to a murder. Instinct flickered just enough for me to turn my head, grasp another pen and throw it at the figure in the doorway. Taking an entering step, Coach Dewey caught it before it could pierce his larynx. "You're very good with weapons, Fangtell."

"You really should learn to announce yourself," I replied.

Bram's eyes lifted, "I assume you've heard all that and you'll take it directly to the Headmaster?"

He smirked slightly, "I said the same thing an hour and a half ago. He knows, he's just decided to pass it off as a suicide for now. No cars were caught going toward or away from the campus last night in the Lot."

"So his lover's here," Bram murmured, lifting a book. He turned it over in his palms, cracking open the front cover and waving it gently toward me, "Where have you last seen this?"

It was so familiar I placed it in an instant, "Tiffany's bag." The longest break of silence I had ever heard come from two people emerged at that moment. I shifted, eyes widening slightly, "_No._ You're not thinking what I think you're thinking."

"Am I thinking what you think I'm thinking?"

"I think you're thinking what I think you think I think you're thinking."

The coach was giving us a stabbing glare. Bram laughed, setting down the book, "Lady and Coach, we have our lover." The satisfied smile crossed his face, probably reaffirming every thought he'd ever had about her while subsequently disappointing every conclusion I'd ever made of her. Funny, out of all the things I'd assumed I'd never seen that coming. "Someone needs to find Miss Vanderlin and ask her exactly what did happen last night."

The coach turned and left, leaving us with the dead man once again. Bram nudged his calf with a knuckle, "If only the dead could talk."  
There was a disturbing slicing and I got up, stepping outside, "Ugh." The silver was slicing into the place it had caught a bit more, releasing a fresh flow of cold blood that trickled from the center point like a steady stream. Bram glanced at the flow of blood before glancing to me, "He was already bleeding when he was pushed. He was killed before he was hung."

The prospect was getting more gruesome as time went on. I broke into a grin, "Well sweetheart, I hope you don't mind on holding off on breakfast until we figure out what's gone on."

He grinned, righting his hat, "Of course not. Though something tells me that Tiffany's story is going to be a bit more gruesome than this." He stepped out beside me, the smile falling gradually as we began walking down the hall. Toward the sun, I opened my parasol and murmured, "If this was any ordinary murder, they'd have found her and killed her too. Someone wanted her alive to tell the tale."

He sighed, getting the door once again, "You have to love a proper murderer. We just haven't had those in centuries."

I chuckled, stepping out into a pool of shadow. It was a perfectly lovely spring day. The grass was blooming, the trees were budding and the sky above was transitioning between showers and unobstructed sunshine- the perfect weather for murdering, I suppose. We were halfway across the lawn in the direction of Tiffany's dorm when I spotted our window ajar and paused. He took a few more steps before turning, a brow raised.

"I closed that window," I replied.

His eyes glinted with a quiet thrill. Lowering the parasol slightly, I took off in the direction of our building instead. The door breezed open easily. Unease pierced the pit of my stomach, and, closing my parasol, I pulled on the handle to produce the thin, elegant blade from within. At the door, I set down the patterned lace and tightened my grip on my blade. Bram was close behind, ascending the stairs quickly. I counted to three and threw open the door, leaping forward with a shout that was mirrored by Tiffany's scream. I lowered my weapon with exasperation, "Oh for Judas's sake, Tiffany. Did anyone ever teach you how to properly break in?"

Her skirt was splattered with long-dried blood and she looked as if she hadn't slept all night. Bram strolled in and handed me the body of my parasol, allowing me to sheathe the blade once more. She reached down and twisted the bat-winged edge around her fingers, eyes flickering up toward me, "I need your help."

"Yes, we know, you witnessed a murder. We're not the only ones."

Her eyes flickered between us, widening with absolute terror, "Does the Headmaster know?"

"He's likely to," I replied, pulling out the chair for her to sit. She froze, staring at the space between us as if there were an invisible third party. Bram shrugged off his jacket and hung it up, "Why don't you just start at the beginning? We'll sort all this out."

"Wolves," she muttered. "It was wolves."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

_Chapter Seventeen_

The kettle whistled, breaking the silence that had settled in between the three of us. Bram rose from the arm of the sofa to fetch it, leaving Tiff and I behind on the velveteen cushions. She was curled up, her eyes downcast and knees folded under her in the most vulnerable position I had ever seen her in. I sighed, checking my phone for word from Vinnie.

"It wasn't supposed to go as far as it did," she murmured, continuing to look everywhere but at either of us.

"The heart does strange things," I replied. As if by my will, my phone went off in my hand and I opened the text from Vinnie quickly. _You're not missing me too much, are ya babydoll? ;)_

I shook my head and smirked. _Worrying about all three of you._

Bram wandered over with a trio of teacups, glancing to me questioningly before sitting down across from us. I smiled, tucking my phone in my lap, "Vinnie."

Her attention was drawn back to us, "You're not...going to tell anyone about this, are you?"

As much as I wanted to destroy Tiffany's reputation, I had already overthrown her. There was no point in wreaking more havoc than there needed to be. Bram shifted slightly, glancing at both of us before tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair to get her attention. Tiffany sat up, shoulders seemingly deflated. "Why don't we just get started? The more we sit here and wait, the harder it'll become to talk about it."

Tiffany released a slow, soft sigh and glanced at the both of us, her eyes suddenly filled with boundless agony. I attempted to ignore the emotion, but the slightest part of me knew that it was genuine. Her eyes quested for mine, attempting to find some sympathy but receiving none. Her arms wound around her torso and she muttered, "We've been seeing each other for a while. He hasn't had anyone since he was turned. Age, for immortals...it's mind over matter if you want to see it that way. He listened. He reassured. He was a great guy." Her voice wavered. I sighed, moving a bit closer and wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders. Her eyes flicked up to me, a fist pressing to her mouth. I rubbed her bicep slightly, gingerly allowing the protective emotional wall to fall. Hers crumbled away quickly, the strong smile dropping as if it had tumbled out of her hands. "We were best friends, more than just...you know. You'll probably never believe it, but we're so much...we were so much like you. We spent all the time together we could. It was nice."

I glanced at Bram. He rose and moved beside me, resting his hand on my knee. I squeezed her shoulder gently, forcing a small smile. Small tears ran down her face and fell off her jaw, slightly-red tinted. Taking a deep, shaky inhale, she continued, "We were talking last night while he was grading. We kept teasing each other...after a while, I decided to follow through. I'd only just gotten under the desk when the door opened. He freaked...he got up, like he was going to talk to someone, but then they must've shifted. He fought back. I was going to help, but he yelled 'stay down!' and I guess they didn't notice...there was crashing and I felt blood, but I didn't move...and then it was quiet. I waited. I didn't think he lost, I thought...I thought he chased them out. But then I got up and..."

"And you saw him," Bram finished for her. From his tone, I knew he accepted her story.

She nodded, "Then...I just...I couldn't. I walked out and I just kept going until I got home. It didn't fully process until this morning. I heard Damien and Jonas across the hall and I just realized...it's...nothing's right anymore. He's gone. He's gone and it happened and it just...wasn't supposed to."

It was a familiar grief, to say the very least. I nodded, settling in against the cushions. "It's a nice, hollow ache right now, isn't it? Then it takes about a week of soul-splitting, searing agony that makes sure you'll never get out of bed. It eases with time, but yours may even be worse than mine. There is no greater agony than being in love with someone, not even losing family. Family we know won't be there forever...love we like to believe even if we're not sure."

Bram's eyes flickered to me with a silent promise that I hadn't asked for, yet was grateful for all the same. He gave my knee a gentle squeeze, thumb tracing the skin at the hem of my skirt. I rested my hand over his. Just as he uttered a syllable, my phone went off with a sound that I'd only heard once before- all the bass dropping at once in a mix of every Skrillex song on one album. "Vincent Stoker!" I practically shouted, freeing myself from between them to answer. For a moment, I forgot just how much I missed him as I traded a customary hello for my thoughts. "You little shit! What have I told you about messing with my phone?!"

He laughed out loud, the sound crystalline and momentarily restoring a portion of my displaced humor. "Come on, babydoll! It's just a song! You know how it goes, always gotta fight the power! Did it work? Are ya getting looks?"

"I wish you could see the one I'm giving you!" I replied, almost serious.

I could hear him beaming, "Well we're almost there. We stopped for a little while to stretch our wings. Looks like we'll get back and settle in with plenty of time to spare." I missed him. It created a resonating pang in the very center of my chest and caused me to flick a glance toward Bram and our guest. Tiffany had closed her eyes and settled in against the couch. Bram smiled, offering me freedom of movement. I sighed, wandering into the kitchen and leaning on the counter, "How far are you to Salem?"

"The Oregon border. Give us a few hours. We're going to settle in at this little halfway house Tootsie Roll found out about and get enrolled tomorrow. Didja hear? So apparently the school's called Monster High now. Rad, ain't it? I want you to come out here, babydoll. It's no fun without a partner in crime, and you gotta admit- you can be the prettiest and most proper lady, but you're also a kick ass prankster."

"You're the brother I never had," I replied, attempting to hide the sentiment in dry humor. It didn't work; he was grinning like the Cheshire cat and I knew it. He'd use this against me someday, but today wasn't that day. "Well then, I hope you go downstairs and tell Walter that I made good use of his bed before I left, wink-wink."

"Oh god!" I laughed out loud, drawing both of their attention. Vinnie chuckled in my ear and replied, "I gotta go, but a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"Since when have you been a gentleman?" I shot back. He just laughed. I reveled in the sound until the line cut. I remained at the counter, considering things with a little more weight. It wasn't logical to stay here. Given, it wasn't exactly logical to go there either, but if Vinnie had made it most of the way without problem, we should be able to as well...

"Gory?" Tiffany asked. I lifted my head and turned toward her, blinking away my thoughts, "Hm?"

"Don't you...have a murder to solve or something?" she murmured, wiping the corners of her eyes. Bram rose a brow; clearly he had a conclusion of his own. I headed back toward them with a slight shrug, "How did you know it was wolves?"

"The look on his face," she replied. "The last time he looked at anything like that, it was after he'd left a faculty meeting with the headmaster. They'd discussed the wolf problem. It had made him physically ill."

I nodded, gingerly peeping through the curtains. Clouds had thankfully settled in the sky once again and our sunscreen-glazed classmates were outdoors playing football- actual football, not American football.

"You should go visit the coach. Tell him everything you've told us," Bram murmured, "He'd come find you at some point anyway."

She nodded, rising slowly. I continued to watch the boys and only noticed her leaving out of my peripheral. Once he'd locked up behind her, I glanced away, "Wolves didn't do this."

"The war is likely based on nothing," he replied, scowling, "There is no turf issues, they have issues with us killing them. But why. What do we have that keeps drawing them here?"

"Especially if they're self-sufficient like the coach said," I replied, letting the curtain fall away. I walked over, perching on the arm of the couch as he came to lean against its back. Brushing his hair out of his eyes, he stared at me. "Yet another twist," he murmured. Gently taking my hand in his own, he sighed and brushed his thumb across my knuckles. I deflated, sinking against the cushion, "You want to leave, don't you?"

"We need to remove ourselves from the situation. The coach is right on one thing, if we're smart, we'll warn everyone else and at the very least, relocate down to Salem's Lot until it's blown over."

The memory of the brutalized wolf returned to my mind's front. I sighed, "She was probably a scout, not a pet." My head snapped up at the same time his did. "The faculty live in the main building on the belfry floor to keep us out at night."

"She wore a collar," Bram replied, "She _was_ someone's pet, just not someone from the Lot."

"Someone's keeping werewolves in the school." For a moment, it overshadowed my earlier thought. It was as if he were reading my mind and aiding the completion of a puzzle, "The headmaster likely has something to do with it. Perhaps it's even him."

It made a great deal of sense. Doctor Astor was opposed greatly to hypocrisy. If the headmaster was keeping lycan pets while attempting to wage war with others- others that he was likely getting his pets from- of course he would've had opposition. What better way to shut up the opposition than to kill him, or to get him killed? A chill of delight ran up my spine, "Do you want me to get Tiffany?"

"No. No, don't tell anyone," he whispered, his ruby eyes glinting with delight, "No, we need to pack up and get ready to leave. We can expose this in time, but it's operative that we make sure we're not killed in the process too."

I rose and rounded the side of the sofa, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him firmly on the mouth, "This is why I love you so deeply. Intellectuals never one-up each other, they skip straight to ten."

He beamed, holding my waist, "Get your suitcase. I'm going to find us a nice little place, hopefully with a cliff-side view."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

_Chapter Eighteen_

Over the course of the next few days, we packed and sent things off to Chicago, coincidentally. With grudging persistence from Bram and further implication that even the best of kings had asked for help at one point or another, I had let my father in on our little plight and he'd sent out a private plane to claim our cargo at the nearest airport. We'd sent Isodora out with a moving truck full of crates, and as soon as it was safely out of sight, we breathed a mutual sigh of relief and sunk back into our somewhat bare and bedraggled apartment.

I curled up on the sofa with a throw I'd unearthed while packing linens, caressing the embroidered maroon velvet. Bram sunk into the chair, glancing about, "Well...we've certainly opened it up for a whole new bout of shopping."

I laughed lightly, but I felt like a loose anchor at sea. My mood was floating downward, sinking slowly without much control. I glanced to him and slowly unfurled, watching the fading light seep in from under the curtains, "I want to investigate tonight."

"I know," he murmured. His exhausted expression seconded my lack of general rest. It seemed like everyone had been preparing for the worst, though most seemed content to wait it out here. I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to go, but there was a small amount of packing to be done before any thoughts of migrating into town could be had, and I was much too tired to consider it. We'd been home at the very latest, three hours. We'd come straight from classes, loaded up the truck and sent it off with our liaison. I was too tired to contemplate class projects or impending due dates. My skull above my eyes was throbbing dully and there was too much to be done to waste time laying on the sofa, yet I was too heavy in body to even move. I glanced back at Bram over my shoulder, exhaling lightly. I removed my glasses, rested them on top of the pillow and massaged my eyelids as if it would soothe my aching optic nerves.  
"Dinner, nap, investigating?" he muttered.

I nodded and settled on the sofa with the pillow tucked under my head. He shot me a somewhat irked look as he rose, taking it upon himself to continue his chivalry. I closed my eyes for what seemed like just a moment, but when I opened them, the ache had eased away. Propping up on an elbow, the sight of the dull crimson neon of the microwave's clock giving just enough inspiration to wake me and push me to my feet. My hands found the mug of blood before my mind had fully processed its presence. I chugged it, grabbed my shoes and pushed them in. I tucked the sides of my sweatpants in tightly, binding my boots around them thoroughly. Bram was so deeply asleep I almost considered not waking him, but he stirred as if sensing my intention. "What time is it?"

"We're wasting night," I said, in too great a hurry to check again. I righted my glasses, clipped back my hair at the base of my skull, and started out the door. He woke suddenly at the opening of the latch, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and started off after me. His eyes were still blurry and sleep-glazed, yet loyalty brought him to my side. We both could've used a few extra hours, or rather a few extra days, but instinct had awoken with me. We were so close I could feel it.  
The building was entirely silent. Isodora's door was still unlocked; she wasn't home and neither was Jonas. Walter's flat was dark and silent, suggesting that without company he had gone to bed. I took a deep breath, anticipating the worst, and quickly slipped out into the night. It was inky black, only a few dorm lights on in the far-off buildings. No light came from the building in the center of our crescent, but plenty came from the illuminated moon. Bram slipped out without locking the outermost door. I stepped off the edge of the lawn and listened to the wind. Not a sound carried, slightly relaxing my shoulders while they tensed all the more. Knees locked, eyes fixed on the far, dark structure, I dashed. The breeze against my eardrums would've been deafening, save for the points of my ears that functioned to pick up sound regardless. The stage door had been left ajar and I ducked inside with Bram a few paces back.

Everything was pitch dark and somehow more vivid. I lowered my glasses to allow my night vision its full effect; no matter how much shit my sight was with illuminated objects, the night only bettered me. The night bettered quite a bit. I couldn't even hear my own boots glide across the stage before I leapt down, creating only a breath of air upon impact, and began a breezy dash down the corridors to the staff level. An ancient staircase sat beside an equally ancient elevator, its constant creaking, screeching and grinding a presence in the school day. In the night, it was all silent. I waited for Bram before ascending the stairs and lowering into a crouch. The main hall was lined with dark carpeting and doors, straight down to a singular window that faced the dorms. Most rooms were dark, but flickering light shone under the door of one and a golden glow spilled from the outermost room. I glanced to Bram, refraining from breaking into a grin, and crawled across the floor in a partial crouch. He followed a heartbeat later, joining me in pausing outside the door. Both of our hearts were racing, joining the sounds of several others. I glanced to him, righting my glasses, and nudged the door a bit. It was unlocked, open enough to give just a bit. I held my breath and nudged it again, taking the sliver of opportunity to duck inside alone.  
Terror was thrilling, anyone who said differently wasn't experiencing the right kind. I crawled along behind a standard sofa on my hands and knees before a female whimper caused me to pause in my tracks. Sitting up was too risky, so I sat, pinned between the wall and the sofa. Heavy breathing spoke of pain while something equally heavy spoke of desire. I wrinkled my nose, changing my mind on my reasoning very quickly. A female growled. She was promptly slapped, probably across the face, and dropped to her knees with a whimper. Headmaster Vasile's dark, rather booming tone addressed her directly. "The moon may make you a feisty dog, but it does not change that you may not bite the hand that feeds you."

The pained, heavy breath resumed with a pause, "Fuck you." Good girl. Wolf or not, good girl. She was hit again. The door was nudged. I saw a glimpse of Bram's ruby eye and shook my head, motioning to get his attention and divert him from entering. It was risky enough to have just me. A pair of harsh, effeminate howls started up only to die out. My nose twitched with the scent of ozone.

I pressed my lips together and crawled just a bit out.  
There were three females in tattered hikers' clothing sprawled across the floor. Two wore obvious electrical collars while the third- very similar in appearance to the one that had been shot by Coach Dewey- had a thin chain around her neck with the tag of a dog. She was the worst for wear, shiny gold eyes and thin blond fur. She grit her teeth, clearly attempting to resist the change and failing. Her eyes lifted to her perceived master.  
To have a werewolf in your service usually meant to have generations of their family in years prior; it meant to have a measure of honor between them and yourself. He was attempting to do just that, but rather start anew. Her eyes fluttered and she fell as if she, too, had been shocked violently. The thought that he had trained them all this way was disgusting, even to me. It wasn't just werewolves, everyone needed to know their place. He had stepped out of his. And he threw her back like a rag doll, hissing as he grasped ahold of another. She growled aggressively, muscles twitching with a shock for her troubles. Still, firey orange eyes didn't betray her pain any. She took a swipe.

There were suddenly howls everywhere. Her claws found purchase. The one that had been laying snapped to her feet and snapped the collar off the other light one before snapping open the strong one's. They tore in like ravenous beasts, and I backed for the door. It was a slow procession, attempting not to attract any heightened attention. As soon as I had slipped into the hall, Bram pulled me to my feet and we raced down to stairwell.

"Wait!" I snapped, grasping his arm. I tugged him into the elevator and threw down the grate. Lights came alive. If I'd had a padlock, I would've closed it. Instead, I waited until we were between floors to stop, successfully trapping us both in a den of darkness.

"Shit," Bram muttered, "I told you so."

"Tell me later."

Something huge and heavy landed on top of us. I couldn't have punched it into motion any faster. As it dropped, I became aware of a presence in the main hall. There were more than ten. They were such scraggly, lopsided beasts that they more so resembled coyotes than wolves. It ground to a halt before even reaching bottom. A pair approached sniffing. Bram grasped my arm.

"Do you think you can land on your feet?" he asked me.

I didn't get time to respond before he'd stomped violently, smashing open the lock on a trap door and dropping the both of us into solid blackness. We tumbled downward, a flash of light and snarling beast before being engulfed by slightly broken black. He lurched to his feet and I to mine and we raced for the far wall. My hands skimmed until they found a panel of wood, and grasping its edge with all my force I cracked it away. One dropped behind us, snarling forcefully. My fingers stung, yet I still made a fist and punched out the glass.

"_Go!"_ Bram shouted, grasping my backside and pushing me out of the tiny hole. I was birthed into the night with his figure at my back, and together we sprinted across the lawn. He paused, panting, drawing my attention. I stopped, paces away, "Gory, what the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm not going anywhere without you!" It was stupid and cliche, but it was true. I waited while he mustered his breath before letting out a thunderous, half-human roar, "_LYCANS!"_

The dorms came alive. Lights flicked on, windows became uncovered, and an entire wave of sparkling eyes began to emerge from the surrounding brush. If I had the capacity to count at that moment, I would've. Jonas was the first one out of the far house, sprinting with a few boys behind him. "Are you really crazy enough to not be running?"

"We're surrounded, in case you hadn't noticed." Bram's tone was sharp, his eyes trained on the emerging snouts and burly, furry bodies. More animal than man, they emerged. A howl came from far off and circulated around, bringing tears to my eyes. My phone was still on the table in the flat. I couldn't text Vinnie my goodbyes. I couldn't call my father and leave him one cryptic last clue. No, we'd be slain without a final word and no one would ever know.

Headlights pierced the night and the procession halted. My chest clenched forcefully as the familiar body of the Impala screeched to a stop inches away from my hip. Vinnie stepped out, grinning from slightly pointed ear to slightly pointed ear, "I've been driving for ten hours at a good speed limit squared, you'd better thank me."

"You fucking idiot," I nearly gasped.

Bram's hand locked in mine, his fingers tightly wrung around my hand. He stepped forward, eyes trained on Vinnie, "How many weapons do you have in that scrap heap?"

He grinned, "Take out the windows, we've got enough for a front line."

The wolves, feet away, began to snarl. It reverberated, spreading through them like a wave. Bram's grip on my hand was nearly painful. "Are you ready?" he murmured in my ear.

"I hope he has a legitimate gun," I muttered.

He took a deep, slow breathe, somehow setting the pace of my breathing with his. His grip began to relax. The small grouping of us seemed to lock eyes with the wolves all at once. The one I was staring at began to bare its teeth.

"Now."


	19. Chapter Nineteen

_Chapter Nineteen_

Vinnie popped the trunk, grabbing a pair of unsheathed short swords and tossing them to me. The wolf nearest to us took off in a lurch, hardly even bothering to build momentum in pawing the ground. It was my job as the first armed to take care of it whether the boys thought so or not. I bought them a few extra minutes, appearing before it and purposefully slashing it across two vital points before the others converged. Days like today made me more than grateful to be a vampire. Sure, they were strong...strength wore down. We endured, we were fast and we were intelligent. And Vinnie was at my side in a heartbeat, his hand resting on the trigger of a double-barreled shotgun. He let off a shot, pumped its center and let off another. The shells popped out, regular tin. I glanced at him in terror. He grinned, "Oh give me some credit, babydoll! Everything's silver plated!"

If I prayed, I would've thanked some higher force. We didn't have time for that, not when we were being attacked. There was the smashing of glass and I knew there were going to have to be priorities taken. Screaming awoke the boys that hadn't yet moved- they dashed in bare-handed, suddenly spurred by fury. I heard the click of a semiautomatic, struck down the wolf in front of me and hit the deck. Vinnie laughed out loud, his eyes flicking back to Bram. I rolled out from under his path, covering the both of them as the seemingly endless perimeter began to converge.

"Fall back!" I shouted, "Forget the front lines, let them through! Get the others, get condensed! They can't take us all at once!"

The boys immediately followed my lead. Tiffany's dorm had spilled out into the night along with the rest of the students. I glanced at them, allowing the boys to take the front for a moment, "Get to the Impala and get something to arm yourselves! And if you think you're about to die, take three of them with you!"

She paused mid-run, staring at me with the realization that this was undoubtedly _real._ I stared back, speaking low and calmly, "You want revenge? Now's your time for it. Kill as many as you want. There's no limit."

The girl beside her, her roommate who I vaguely recognized and whose name I couldn't place at the moment, glanced at Tiffany before grabbing another short-sword out of the Impala and getting to work. I dashed in between the boys, halting the coming wolves. A somewhat-protective rectangle had formed around the car, protecting our arsenal. And here I'd thought these people didn't watch the right movies. The infuriated, somewhat agonized and greatly inhuman roar of impending murder that sounded from Tiffany spread a grin across my features. It was distracting enough to catch a swipe across the torso, splattering my blood with my enemies' on my clothes. It stung like a bastard, but wasn't deep enough to cause too much damage- at least, I'd tell myself that until I really knew. I swung the blade and decapitated my opponent before he got in another lucky shot. The vague sounds of shooting came from the main building. Vinnie glanced back while still firing, grinning openly, "Hey, the coach lived!"

"Stoker!" Tiffany's roommate shouted. He glanced back, but she shot the lycan that was about to lunge at him in the face with silver short-arrows from a crossbow. He ripped them out and threw them back; she caught them by the tips, jammed them back in the holster and continued. He glanced at Bram, "I think I'm in love!"

"There's a time and a place for everything, Vinnie!" he nearly growled.

I slammed my weight into a massive beast, bouncing it back a few feet. Jonas sliced through the air with a handful of sharpened kitchenware tucked in the belt of his pajama pants, slicing across its eyes and giving me the moment I needed to follow through. He grinned at me, his twisted smile and darkly glinting eyes suddenly very welcome. "Need a hand?" he asked, glancing toward the cluster of them about to tear into our front line. I nodded, removing my necklace and using it to hold my sword against my side. Grasping his hand, he gave me a cheerleader's boost and swung around in a circle, launching me at it. I slammed my sword into its chest, realizing a bit too late that I was in the center of the alpha and his betas.

"_Despari,_" I muttered, wrenching my sword free and dropping to the earth in front of them. There were three of them and one of me, and I was already mentally screaming at myself. War made people stupid, especially people who thought they knew what they were doing. For a moment, I had a burst of confidence; I was getting in some pretty good hits and my team was holding their own. Someone would notice. Then the Alpha caught my sword in his hand, squeezing his palm around the blade. I paused just for a heartbeat, but it felt as if in that heartbeat everything had gone momentarily silent. He threw back his head, piercing the air with a howl. We were outnumbered, outgunned and probably about to be slaughtered- and we weren't going down easily. Coach Dewey must've abandoned the school, since the sound of gunfire burst through the howl and suddenly, a slamming, wrenching pain struck my torso hard enough to cause me to cry out and double over. I dropped my sword and grasped the paw buried in my skin. The betas had turned away. The intelligent beast across from me was about to tear open my organs, it was about to rip me apart and leave me to die on the lawn. I grit my teeth and smashed his hand between mine.

The alpha let out a howl, striking out and slashing my face. My glasses went airborne. Instinct took over; my knee went into its groin and my skull collided with its. There was a sharp snarl in my face before it crumpled backward. My fingers touched the wound, tears stinging in the corners of my eyes as I realized the severity of it. Blood was pouring freely, a gape where something must've once been. Still, I didn't reach for my glasses. I grabbed my sword. I could hardly see with agonized tears blurring my vision, but I didn't need to. I tightened my hold, released my wound and let out an inhuman sound of my own. I swung the sword upward and drove it straight down between its eyes, using all of my weight, momentum and strength. There were snarls nearby, but I didn't have the strength to get back up again. I simply crawled aside to make sure that my blood wouldn't spill in any of its wounds and bring it back. Deafening cracks by the side of my head couldn't be blocked, not while I was trying to hold myself together.

When I'd caught my breath, I grabbed my glasses and sword and lurched to my feet again. There was blood everywhere and all over me and my lens was cracked, but I didn't feel the need to stay down. No, I'd damn well practice what I preached. Elizabeth Bathory died after taking people with her, Joan of Arc...that crazy lady played by Meryl Streep in that medieval movie... I was not about to go down without ensuring they wouldn't.

Time seemed to slow down. My limbs were dragging and every sound was sharper. I was aiding, not directly taking on the lycans anymore. When I collapsed, it was against the surprisingly strong figure of the girl who'd aided Vinnie. Her red nightgown was instantly splashed in blood. She lowered the both of us to the ground, her hand clasped over my stomach, "Bram!"

The boys immediately broke away from helping kill or drive out the remaining wolves and dashed over. Vinnie knelt at her side, glancing at her before looking at me. He whistled, "That looks like it hurts."

I glanced up as Bram knelt down beside me. His eyes widened in horror and he dropped his gun into the grass, taking my torso gently in the cradle of his arms. The sky had likely been brewing the whole time with the tempermental weather, but a rumble in the clouds came milliseconds before a raindrop splattered my face. He noticed, about to shed his outermost shirt. I grasped a fistful of it, smiling slightly. I shook my head, "A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now."

"Don't you dare," he growled. I reached down, pulling my necklace from the waistband of my pants. It was bloody from my hands, my sword and my wound, but still I unclasped it once again and placed it around his neck. My hands were shaking from the lack of blood in my system. He grasped it tightly in his own, shaking his head and lowering it gently over my stomach. "Trust me."

"No," I whispered.

"Trust me," he repeated.

"Oh fuck this trust thing," Vinnie nearly snarled. He wrenched out of his jacket and draped it over Natasha's shoulders. Natasha...that was her name. She glanced at him and his bloodstained shirt, wrapping his jacket around herself slightly when a monstrous roar awoke both of us to a singular remaining threat.

In one swift move, Coach Dewey had decapitated the headmaster before he could reach us. My remaining blood spiked with warmth. I broke into a grin that lasted only a moment. He hardly moved, but when he did, he collapsed. I started looking about frantically for Tiffany, Jonas, Walter and Isodora. Bram drew me closer, "Shh. Gory, you don't need the stress. Please."

I shook my head, attempting to force myself up again. Something surely ripped, causing a new rush of blood and a spike of agony. I glanced at Bram. His eyes flickered, the rain picking up with the intensifying darkness. I laughed- a gasping, raspy sound. Pride swelled my heart despite the circumstance. He was doing this. He'd unleashed his full potential. His eyes fell to me, my proud gaze meeting his mournful one.

"I trust you."

...

"I trust you," she murmured. Her voice was hardly above a whisper and we didn't have any more time. Her eyes had grown heavy and her body was getting cold with shock. I sunk my fangs into the cuff of my shirt and ripped, tearing upward until my wrist was free. My fangs tore open my skin like tissue paper, allowing the blood to be freely flowing by the time my wrist was in her mouth. Her eyes snapped open, completely dark, fangs embedding in the wound. I attempted not to wince, forcing a thin-lipped smile.

Vinnie glanced at Natasha, slicking back his damp and once-styled hair, "Hey."

"Hey yourself, Stoker," she replied, drawing his jacket tighter against the breeze. He reached out, glancing at her hesitantly before zipping her up in it. Her dark curls were falling out of her tight up-do. They both glanced to me at the same time as if remembering my existence. "What should we do?" she murmured, clearly ready to back us up.

"Take attendance," I muttered, "Find out the dead and the living. Total up the wolves killed, find out how many there were. If you find any more, kill them on sight. Have no mercy. And if things aren't too badly broken up, go home."

She nodded, rising and glancing to Vinnie. Both of them surely expected to be alright, but they had no idea. They'd have nightmares for years about the day they officially met. Still, the way they looked at each other was reassuring. They'd have each other for quite a while. He wrapped an arm around her and led her off, giving me the privacy to gently boost Gory's limp figure close to my chest. She was doused in blood, alabaster skin stained with it. When my wrist slipped out of her mouth, I kissed her scarlet lips and removed her broken glasses. She was sound asleep, left to heal during the night. Some of the injuries looked a lot worse than they were, much like the cuts on her face and the scrapes on her hands that were still oozing blood, but the deeper wounds would need to be tended to immediately. We crossed the lawn, our clothes growing heavy with rainwater quickly. Before nudging open the door, I laughed breathlessly and humorlessly. "You always get yourself into some sort of trouble."

I took my time ascending the stairs. Surely Isodora would be driving up soon and have some sort of dramatic reunion with her brother, slap him and come to her mousy senses and potentially a new nerve. If Gory were awake, I might've placed a wager on it. Instead, I simply unlocked our flat and slipped inside the darkness. The unwashed mugs were promising blood that I didn't have time to feed on. I locked up and carried her directly to the bathroom to clean her up.

She could never say I didn't love her, no matter how many times she thought so in her silly insecurities. There were an infinite amount of women in the world and of course, I could have any one. I didn't want just any woman, I wanted her. While filling the tub, I glanced down at her face and contemplated why she'd even question it. She got everything she wanted, I did everything she asked...and her necklace around my neck as well as her actions on the battlefield proved that she loved me enough to entrust me with her life and one of her most dear possessions. While peeling her ruined clothes from her skin, I pressed her ear to my chest for a moment and sighed, "You don't know what I would've done if something more serious had happened to you."  
After cleaning her up, dressing her wounds and tucking her in, I washed up a bit myself and returned to the kitchen for a replenishing of blood. It was so late...so dark... I managed to down two glasses before I laid down on her throw pillow on the sofa. The light was nowhere near approaching, and yet my mind felt as if it were dawn.


	20. Chapter Twenty

_Chapter Twenty_

The lawn had been bathed in red that the rain wasn't washing away.

Tears streamed down Natasha's face, her dark curls falling in chunks from her clip. The number of wolves was significantly greater than the number of vampires on the casualties, but her casual regard for the classmates she hardly knew stopped when she saw the burning wreckage of a Salem's Lot taxi.

Jonas was on the muddy road, the pavement one of the only places that the red splashed across it had washed away. His sister's body was cradled in his arms. A deep rip from her naval to her throat had been her undoing. Surprisingly, her fangs and mouth as well as her hands were coated in the blood of two lycans she'd taken down before falling against the taxi that had likely crashed into the third while she was still inside.

Vinnie dashed out of the rain, panting, "We have the infirmary packed. Thirty wounded, sixteen dead, Coach and Is included."

She curled into his jacket a bit tighter, the lightning flickering through the opening leaves momentarily illuminating the carmine in her eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair, taking a step toward her, "Tash...it's gonna be okay."

She shook her head slowly. The torrent of pouring rain was soaking the three living vampires, but none seemed to pay it any mind but Vinnie, who reached out and zipped up her jacket a bit tighter. Jonas's hair was stuck to his face. He brushed his sister's off of hers, staring down at her peaceful expression and whimpering like a lost pup. The time until dawn was limited, but the rain seemed to provide as best of a cloak as it could from any impending light.  
"Do you want to know why I came here?" Natasha whispered, running her fingers against the inner lining of his jacket, "I've seen death. I've traveled. I've seen people be pulled out of the streets and strung up on trees. I've seen a poor young girl with no way to sustain herself thrown out in the street like trash and children in starving families offering to help tourists in exchange for money and get written off as a scam when they know if they don't find help, they'll die. I came here to try to forget that existed." She paused just for a moment, withdrawing a delicate ivory hand from the tiny hole of air at the collar of his jacket, "Now look at us."

Sympathy and slight empathy colored Vinnie's eyes darker than his slightly bloodless state already had. He took a step toward her, offering his hand, "I killed a guy once. That's how I ended up like this. I had to go on the lamb, came across the wrong guy in a back alley, y'know?"

She sighed, tearing her eyes away from Jonas to stare at him with exasperation and gratitude. "I didn't want to make this about you, Vinnie."  
"You needed it." His reply stirred a slight warmth in her chest. She pushed her arms down the still-too-big sleeves of his jacket and attempted to reach out in return. He smiled, slipping his hand into the cuff to take it gently in his own. Color slightly returned to her face as she noticed the roughness of his fingers. Her eyes lifted, "You're not like the rest of us."

"I've never met two snobs exactly alike," he replied, smirking slightly, "Neither are you."

A smile broke her features, tears spilling openly over her face. He pressed his lips together in a firm line and tugged her close as gently as possible. Natasha's slender, delicate figure crumpled into his with the fragility of a newly hatched butterfly. "I lost friends, Vin. I built up some innocence and lost it again."

"This might be a bad time to say it, but I'd really like to really corrupt you sometime."

She laughed breathlessly, smacking his chest, "Not now, Vinnie Stoker. You have the worst timing of any man on earth."

He smiled slightly, giving her a light squeeze, "I said sometime, not today." Exhaustion had wrought them all. He sighed, glancing back to Jonas one last time before focusing his attention on her with a certain finality. "Come stay with Walter and me tonight. Gory and Bram are just up the hall. I'll take the couch, I just think...maybe you'd feel a little better if you got a couple hours' sleep where you knew you were safe."

He waited a moment before glancing down at her, breaking into a slight smile. Chuckling lightly, he gathered her up in his arms like a child, "Or you could fall asleep now."

...

When I heard the crack of thunder, loud enough to physically shake the windows, I was surprised it didn't split my skull. I rolled over on my stomach and felt around before sighing and reaching into the dresser for my spare glasses. They were a little more ovular than my old, but they'd do. I stretched slightly, surprised that my body only ached instead of screaming with agony at every shift. There was a lukewarm glass of blood on the nightstand that brought a smile to my lips.

Regardless of my physical state, I sat up gingerly. I was wearing one of Bram's shirts, obviously having been tended to the night before thoroughly. I rested a hand on my diaphragm and inhaled deeply, wincing slightly at the ache in my upper abs from the piercing wound. I picked up the glass and wandered into the main room, completely unsurprised to see that he was still sleeping deeply on the sofa, one leg off the side and the ankle of the other propped up on the arm of the couch. His wrist hung over the edge, his other arm thrown over his torso and my bloody necklace gleaming against the hollow of his throat. Lightning flashed bright enough to penetrate most of the curtains and throw shadows over the floor. I flicked on the light in our kitchen before circling around to the chair he'd fallen asleep in previously. I took my phone off the table and sunk into the soft upholstery, checking my messages. It was after noon, the relentless pouring obviously having continued from the wee hours. An actual message from my father lingered in my inbox. I shook my head slightly, skimming it before deciding to call Ruth and update her on what Vinnie had likely let her in on after all.

"Hey sweetie, it's Gory. Vinnie's okay, he came back here. We...had a very eventful night." Several thoughts were beginning to form in my mind that all needed aid of their own to become thought patterns. I pressed on my temple to calm an ache that wasn't there. "Tell me all about Oregon. And find out about that school for me. We might have a bunch of new transfers if things go the way I think they will. Say hello to Charles for me."

Bram stirred on the couch as I hung up. I glanced down at my phone and laughed humorlessly, "My father gave Valentine my number. Apparently, he's becoming quite serious about this new woman."

Bram looked up at me with squinted, blurry eyes. He was so tired he looked jet-lagged. An involuntary grin crossed my lips as he sat up on his elbows, looking at me as if he were trying to place who I was and how I got in. His hair was sticking up in several directions, and his lips were pouted adorably. He was like a child growing petulant at being woken up from a nap. I set down my phone and knelt beside the couch at his side, smoothing down the static-ridden strands. "You look like Alfalfa from The Little Rascals right now," I commented, attempting to keep the grin contained. He awoke a bit more under my touching, propping up and putting the pillow against his shoulder blades before sinking down once again, "I want a Belgian waffle. A really thick Belgian waffle with mixed fruit and syrup and powdered sugar and enough whipped cream to give me temporary diabetes."

"Well good morning to you too, you greedy little shit," I replied, propping my elbows up on the cushion beside him. He laughed, his head rolling until his eyes met the ceiling. "I didn't mean for you to make it, I just was stating fact. I'm starving."

I held out my wrist. He took it and shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to my palm before kissing the point of my slow pulse. His lips brushed up to my elbow, placing another kiss there. Our eyes met once again, the sleep gone entirely from his. "I had a nightmare," he murmured.

"Oh?" I murmured, resting my hand against my bruised middle while I climbed on top of him and used his chest for a pillow of my own. He seemed contented by the action, resting his arm across my back and linking the fingers of his other hand with mine. "I dreamed I was alone. I woke up alone. And I knew what being with you and loving you was like, but you didn't exist in my world. And there was such a hollowness in me that nothing else mattered but you. I became obsessed with you. You were like my Doctor Who."

I pushed myself up on my forearms, looking down at him with exasperation, "That was really romantic until you made that reference."

He broke into a grin, "Did you want it to be like Merlin?"

"Shut up, BBC ruins lives."

He guided the hand laced with his to rest against the bloody necklace and the rust-colored imprint of my devil-heart on his alabaster skin. "You've thoroughly ruined mine, Gory Fangtell, and I will be forever grateful."

I should've been used to his romance by now, but that didn't stop my eyes from tearing when he said it. It didn't stop my heart from swelling and my soul from reminding me that it was there. Love and agony went hand in hand- without one, we'd never know the other. Being with him had been the greatest joy of my life and apparently the feeling was mutual, and even if I'd almost caused him soul-shattering agony, he wouldn't have taken back loving me for the world. The only reason I knew was simply that I felt the exact same way. If I had lost him yesterday, I would've never regretted loving him. I released my breath, caressing his chest slowly. Placing a gentle kiss to the front of his throat, I murmured, "I should've never met you, Bram. Now I can't live without you."

Our positions were suddenly reversed. I hissed involuntarily at the impact of my back to the cushions. He rested his hand over the bandages gently, slowly caressing down my covered stomach. His fingers brushed my hips, drawing in my sharp breath of surprise. I glanced down to his hand, returning my gaze to his burning eyes. "I love you," he said very quietly, "I should never have to say it again." I knew he would. He would because he did and he always would. I guided his hand back up to the bandages, releasing my breath slowly, "I love you."

He leaned forward, kissing me gently and brushing his fingers over my covered skin. "You need rest. Lay here and drink that. I'm going to grab a shower and come take care of you afterward."

It wasn't the time or the place to voice my thoughts, but they'd need to be spoken later. He rose and I propped myself up on the pillow I'd been using earlier, smiling lazily and attempting to pose despite the ache in my lower ribs, "We need to talk about the future later."

He just smiled, "We shall."

I shook my head, picking up my phone and opening a new email. He shuffled out, clearly still waking up while I typed a message to myself. _Look into this "monster high." Salem real estate. Talk to Ruth and Vinnie. Call Dad. Spend time in Chicago before making any big decisions._

I laid on the couch for quite a while listening to the storm. I finally did reply to my father, letting him know not to rush in when he was unprepared and vulnerable. Valentine was the farthest thing from my attention while I was buried in thoughts. Had they cleaned up all the bodies? How many did we kill? How many did we lose? Would we lose more? What was going to happen to us? To Vinnie? And mostly, how would we keep Bram's mother from getting on a plane when we let her know what happened? I smiled while trying to answer that thought for myself. If Bram hadn't emerged from the bedroom, I might've sat and contemplated quite a bit more. Instead, he walked over and nudged me. I glanced up, "Can I help you?"

"Make me a sandwich," he said with childlike innocence.

I glanced him over, assessing what he could've possibly had in store for me. "There isn't a monkey in the freezer with a pie, is there?"

He laughed, "Please, I'm trying to surprise you, not hurt you." He'd left the necklace on, though he'd cleaned it. I shook my head and rose, pointing a finger at it, "I want that back later."

"Scout's honor," he replied.

I rolled my eyes, "Like _you _were ever a boyscout."

Apparently the occasion warranted vampiric speed, since by the time I reached the refrigerator, he was already there and waiting with both hands innocently behind his back. I crossed my arms, raising my brows suspiciously, "Do _you_ have a pie?"

He looked at me seriously, "You wanted to talk about the future, didn't you?"

I stopped breathing. That was the best introduction he could've possibly had. "You didn't," I whispered in disbelief. He knew it was only shock. He broke into the biggest grin I'd ever seen on his face and dropped to one knee, producing a little black box with silk and velvet interior. The ring it held was _gorgeous,_ a circular ruby offset by diamond-incrusted Celtic carvings stemming from its gold holster. It was subtly gaudy and spoke of a price tag that was probably mind-blowing. I was going to cry. One hand rested over my chest as if trying to keep my heart from bursting at the joy. He lifted my limp one, taking it very gently in his, "You know, I really need the other one, but this will do for the words." His teasing was disregarded as soon as it was spoken. He cleared his throat and adjusted his positioning slightly, suddenly becoming very serious. Our eyes met. If I had the ability to speak, I would've cut him off with a scream of my affirmation and ended it right there. My lungs felt stiff and allowed him to speak.  
"Gloria Diana Fangtell, I have courted you for three and a half years. We are each other's first and I intend to make you my only. I intend to be your only. Nothing would make me happier than being with you for the rest of our unnatural lives and the subsequent rest of time." He paused, likely for dramatic effect. There was sheer terror in his eyes as they met mine, though. If he was sure of my affirmation, it didn't show. I wished I had the breath to reassure him, but he spoke very lightly and gently before I had the chance to catch it. His tone had lowered, gentled until it was almost sheepish. His eyes flicked down to the floor before returning to mine, filled with such boundless gratitude, adoration and love that I could no longer hold back my tears.  
"Will you marry me?"

I was going to suffocate myself. I sobbed and let my hand fall. No matter how much I wanted to stay composed, I couldn't. He wanted me for the rest of the foreseeable future and beyond. I grinned; there just weren't any words to convey how utterly, heart-wrenchingly _happy_ he had made me. So I just said one, the one that made him grin and slip the ring gently onto my left ring finger and filled us both with the deepest sense of accomplishment we could've ever reached in existing.  
"Yes."


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

_Chapter Twenty-One_

_Note: I lost the first draft of this, actually. After getting out everything that I remembered...I think it actually might've turned out better._

Maggie shrieked so loudly she likely woke up the next building. I sat by the window, cradling my phone in my hand while Bram laughed. His mother's enthusiasm for our decision was limitless, even if some details of the surrounding situation hadn't been disclosed yet. He stirred various vegetables and cut steak in the skillet, his phone sitting on the counter on speaker. My father's contact had been pulled up, yet my finger still hovered over the call icon. "When can we start gettin' ready?" she asked with pure and genuine enthusiasm, "When do ya want me to fly out?"

"Give it a little while, Mum, we're still getting our bearings." A bemused smile toyed with my fiancee's lips. Fiancee. Husband. Married. I'd never get tired of those words. He washed his hands and grabbed his phone to allow me to second the conversation. While his mother was grilling him about things that didn't matter, I listened. After only two rings, he answered, "Gory! Astrid and I were just talking about you!"

"Who?" I replied, skipping my hello.

"Astrid. Valentine's mother. We've been working together for a while now. Usually he comes with us, but this week has given him a rather busy schedule."

Disbelief took away most of the tact of my news. He might've gone on, but I cut him off abruptly, "I'm engaged."

I swore he'd forgotten that Bram existed entirely by the awkward silence that drew itself out in the wake of my news. My happiness slowly fell as if I were a leaf drifting down from a breeze. "What?" he finally asked. I could've slapped myself. "Engaged. To be married. To Bram."  
There was another silence, a longer one this time. Frustration was rising slowly, aided by the sound of a soft and feminine voice speaking to him. It halted abruptly and he simply said, "Oh."

"Oh? I would've thought you'd be happy. You're rid of my mother, now you're rid of me too. Now you can move on quite happily with your precious _Astrid_ and your pet kiss-ass." Of course he would've said more, but I'd hung up before he had the chance to. _How dare he._ She wasn't even a month gone and he was out on the town with some...some immortal gold-digger. A raw sting returned to my wounded heart, making my ribs protest the action of breathing a bit more. I tucked my phone in Bram's shirt pocket for safekeeping, resting my hand against my diaphragm.  
"Hold on a moment, Mum." Bram set his phone down on the counter, leaving the heat on a simmer and crossed the room to me. His arms wrapped gently around my waist in support, concern evident in his expression. "Are you in pain?" he murmured, gently rubbing the tender vertebrae along the same line of my torso. I took a deep breath and released it slowly to contain my anger, "Not physically."

He kissed my lips very lightly, "It's alright. Your father's entitled to friends. It helps the healing process."

I kissed him back gently, "She's not a friend." The thought that he was seeing someone so soon wounded me more than it should've. Surely he didn't know how to be alone after all these years, of course his first thought would be help and companionship...but I couldn't even dream of him taking someone home when my mother's perfume still scented his pillows. Bram placed a gentle kiss to my neck, trailing them slowly upward before placing a kiss to the hollow of my throat where my necklace usually laid. A playful glint lit his eyes as he dipped my body in his arms.

I giggled, "I feel like Morticia Addams. It feels lovely."

Drawing my wrist to his lips, he kissed it gently, "You _are_ my Morticia." He glanced back toward his phone and I allowed him to right me, clicking the speaker button while resuming dinner's assembly. "We can both hear you now, Mum."

"I was just thinkin', if you didn't think a little something from the boutique was enough, we could do it all by hand-" Maggie was getting ahead of herself. I smiled, curling up on the sofa with my head on my arms and calling over to the phone, "I'll take care of it, if you wouldn't mind just helping back up executive order."

"I'd be more than happy to!" she chimed. A part of me worried that she was more excited for this than we were. Clearly, plenty of un-conversational things were still brewing in Bram's mind. He said our goodbyes rather quickly and drew a successful end to wedding talk. I watched him with as much interest as the lethargy of healing could muster in me.

His glinting ruby eyes flicked up to mine briefly, "How's that heart?"

"A little wounded, but full," I replied. I smoothed my bangs, taking note of their increasingly uneven length. "We both need a haircut before we start plotting any further."

"He must be very drunk, you know." The subject of my father's trysts were obviously a little too juicy to simply shrug off. I lowered my glasses and rubbed my eyes slightly. "Either he was intoxicated, under a spell, or he never loved her." The latter was impossible; I knew my parents. The second was farther from likely as the first. I sighed, lowering my face slightly into the crook of my arm.  
"Maybe she should fly out to Chicago?" he suggested, "We do have to think about relocation. It's likely not going to be safe for us here any longer if there are more out there. I was thinking we could pack up the school, send it off to that little town in Oregon. If the monsters are going to start banding together, they might as well get a better education than the humans."

I raised a brow, "Are you thinking of teaching out there for a profession? Because there is college, you know. Chicago has plenty of nice art schools and they'd definitely be eager to have you."

Maine, Chicago or Oregon, either way we'd end up in ill-temperate weather full of regionally isolated-meets-mainstream life. The city had a greater chance for opportunity. We could get a nice little place on the outskirts, go to college, get real jobs...leave this place and, more importantly, my father's ignorance in the past. Surely he'd see that we could reconnect there. I could keep an eye on my dad, deem Astrid either second-mother or gold-digging-whore personally. He glanced at me with a slightly exasperated look while turning down the heat. I shifted slightly, "You know it's true. And it's better for us there. We can do more this way."

"What like? See the sights?" he teased.

"We can help people. Yeah, sure, Oregon's full of monsters but isn't the entire point of being revealed to go out and embrace the world again? We can take back what's rightfully ours, Bram. We can go among them, shop freely in their stores, go to their schools, get real lives. New York is too diverse and LA isn't exactly our kind of weather or our kind of publicity. Where's a better place to start out?" When he didn't smile wistfully like I expected, mine fell. "We can still have the world, you know. We can still be kings. It won't take long, it's straight to the top from here."

"I don't want to discuss this right now." He turned, dividing the food between our plates in silence. My brows knit in surprise, "I thought you'd be happy."  
He was quiet as if thinking over his wording. Finally, he muttered, "Tea?"  
I nodded. The thought of going to bed down in rural god-knows-where with a little white picket fence and a unified community almost made my stomach turn. I scowled, shifting slightly, "We don't have to settle on anything yet. We do have time-"

The kettle hit the counter rather forcefully. My eyes widened in shock. He looked at me with darkness and desperation in his gaze that begged me to stop. I rose, torn between dashing over and wandering carefully. His temper wasn't the cause of my caution, but the shine in his eyes most certainly was. My feet settled on a slow, careful walk over. He glanced down at the counter to make sure it hadn't harmed the surface, trying to hide the raw agony in his eyes. I touched his chin gently, guiding his face back toward mine. Very gently, he took my hands in his, linking them together like puzzle pieces. I traced my thumb across his cheek very slowly, "Why does this hurt you? You wanted nothing else a few days ago."

"I've watched people die since then. I almost lost you. Last night...I realized that I didn't care anymore. Conquering peasantry meant nothing. I'm not a king...I don't have a kingdom without you. I don't need to rule anything anywhere in the world because you are my world, and I just want to keep you safe. I just want to make you happy. I wanted to marry you because I didn't want to spend any more of my life without making sure you knew just how much, how truly and deeply I love and adore you." He paused just for a moment, allowing a single tear to spill down his alabaster cheek, "I would condemn the world for you. All you have to do is say the word."

Empathetic tears stung my eyes. I drew him closer, shaking my head, "I know. Bram...I can't put into words how deeply I love you. I trust you. I don't trust anyone but you. Sometimes I feel so stupid around you...but you know, I wouldn't have it any other way." He smiled slightly, sadly, wrapping his arm gently around my waist. I rubbed the back of his neck with my now-free hand while leaning in to lightly kiss his jaw. "You are such a beautiful being. I can't get over how much luck I must've had to accumulate over my lifetime to earn you."

"It wasn't luck," he murmured, turning his face toward mine, "I'm Irish. And I hit the leprechaun jackpot."

He was about to kiss me when I giggled. Pausing, he murmured, "What?"

"I wonder if leprechauns are real."

An amused, slightly teasing look crossed his face, "Shut up and kiss me, Gory. We have packing to do later."

I pressed my lips to his and grunted, "Great. Pack, go to war, pack some more. We really should've just finished the other night."

"If we didn't have to go kill people, I'm sure we would've."


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

_Chapter Twenty-Two_

It was raining still at two am. My days and nights were so thoroughly messed up that after a long, after-dinner cat nap, I was awake again and packing. Swaths of fabric and carpet and things from when we'd first gotten into the love-nest stage sat across the coffee table from the little box I'd packed, unpacked and decided to look through. A set of first impression letters that we'd promised to give to each other in a decade- or, as I still remembered writing, on our wedding day- still sat folded and sealed in the bottom. I stared at them before taking each piece of fabric and gingerly tucking them back into the box for safe keeping.

"You're not coming, are you?"

My head snapped up. I realized it was likely the first time Vinnie Stoker's presence had ever surprised me. He wandered in, his faded and well-loved red shirt surprisingly loose without his jacket. I raised a brow as he wandered in and sat on the sofa beside me. "Salem. I was talkin' to Bram a while ago, he wants to go but he wants to put all this-" He gestured to my box as if it meant more than it did. "first."

I clasped the box and gave him a very serious look, "We're going to stop in Chicago to check up on my father, yes." Even while a part of me didn't want to go to Salem, I'd go where he went and I was sure he knew it. Glancing down at the little cherry-wood box, I decided to let my heart decide for me. My heart was torn between the city I knew and loved and continuing a life of rural isolation. "It's not far from Portland, is it?"

Vinnie smirked triumphantly as if he knew my question was their victory. "Bout an hour."

Roughly my hometown from Chicago. I smiled slightly, stroking the top and sighing softly, "My mom would've loved to help me plan my wedding. When she married my father, she'd had plans since she was a little girl. She always dreamed of getting married in a castle or a cathedral...in front of a whole population that would flock to see her wed some young, dashing prince."

"You can stop whenever you like," he muttered.

"She didn't. And I'm thinking that's what people want Bram and I to do since she didn't."

Vinnie might not have let on how intelligent he was on a usual basis, but he was now. He shifted when I stood, propping his boots up on the arm of the sofa and staring directly at me with his lovely dark eyes. "You need to do what you really want, Fangs. Cause pretty soon, you're not gonna be able to live up to my nickname anymore." He laid back on the throw I'd left in place and grinned, "Hell, you never listen to anybody anyway. That's why you get in trouble all the time."  
Greaser or not, Vinnie wasn't an outsider. To the less open minded, he was just Vincent Stoker, that little hoodlum who cut class, known for his sass, and knew the ins-and-outs of a car as well as Hugh Hefner knew female anatomy. He wasn't hated by anyone, he wasn't feared, he might've been looked down upon a time or two but not by me. Vinnie was a street-hardened exterior around a very good soul, and he was the closest thing to a brother I ever wanted to get. I tucked the box back in its proper moving crate and draped myself over the couch, wincing slightly at my protesting ribs, yet kissing his forehead anyway. He wiped it off like it was disgusting, but grinned. He sat up, shifting to his knees over the couch and allowing me to hop back onto my feet. I felt like doubling over in pain, but somehow I didn't. He had a big, boyish grin on his features that drove me slightly insane with curiosity.  
"I think I'm in love with her," he confided very quietly.

"Natasha?" I replied, almost teasing him.

He grinned, "I brought her back here with me. She slept a while in my bed, all wrapped up in my jacket...she's gorgeous. She's gorgeous and she fights like she was in a gang before. Then she woke up and we had somethin' for dinner and she played me at Saints Row Three. She kicked my ass. I left her alone to do her girly thing but _holy shit."_

I laughed and took the pillow from behind him to cushion the box. He smirked, "So, you're gonna head down to the city and do the deed before you go cuddle up in suburbia?"

The way he said it made it sound much more suggestive than it was. I blushed heavily. "No, I am not. We are going to check up on my father and plan things. When it happens, it happens."

"Can I be your best man?" he asked, winking teasingly.

"Sure, what dress size are you?" I teased.

He got up, walked around the couch and stood side-by-side with me. He glanced me over and himself, shrugging, "A size or two bigger than you."

I burst into laughter. He grinned, somehow remaining completely serious. "Just nothin' pink, you got me? And no bows." He cleared his throat and attempted his best rich-white-man accent, "It makes my arse look big."

I could've cried. I was laughing so hard my ribs hurt, and yet I felt like I could've laughed away the rest of the night. There was so much mourning to be done that I was happy for Vinnie's presence. I was happy for Bram's proposal and his mother's enthusiasm and the chance to see my dad. There was something wrong with me that made me so happy while Tiffany, Jonas and my father were in such states. The joy should've at least been contained. It wasn't, though. After three years, I could get away from living like a boarder. We could say goodbye to our lavish living arrangements that had to be modified to be different than everyone else's. No more listening to late-night flat parties, or trudging through the rain and snow to the carport, or even school if we decided. No more pretending I was happy around people I hardly knew and hardly wanted to know.

In my enthusiasm, I flung my arms around Vinnie's neck and squeezed him tightly. He laughed, giving me a gentle squeeze in return, "Mind if we tag along? Ruth's got it handled. She met some nice girl down the road before I left. It looked like it was gonna be good for everybody."

"I'm sorry about the bullet holes in your car," I murmured into his neck.

"Ah, it needed a paint job."

His nonchalance was broken as we heard the creaking of the lower door. Natasha must've poked her head out, because her voice rang clear in the hall, "Vinnie?"

He grabbed both my cheeks and kissed me on the forehead, beaming from ear to ear, "I gotta go. Tell me before you leave."

"Please don't have sex now," I replied, "Have a little courtesy to the dead, wait a few days. Let it sink in."

He flashed me a wide grin that said he had no intention of taking my advice and headed downstairs. Crossing the room to shut the door, I heard him say, "I'm comin', babydoll. Traffic outta Transylvania's killer this time of night."

She actually laughed at that while their door shut. I shook my head, leaning against the door with a slight sigh. Eventually, I did budge again. I brought the moving crate into the bedroom and set it down beside the desk, emptying out the room's contents into it. Journal upon journal, replaced almost every three months like clockwork, dropped into the box until I had reached my very first. My nostalgia overcame me for another, longer moment and persuaded me to pull out the desk chair and take a moment to remember in detail the exact moment this psychotic little roller coaster had begun.

_September Third,  
This is my first entry from Belfry Prep. This school is everything I wanted it to be and more. Art, Literature, Theatre, Politics, Debate, Trade-ship and everything else the mind could conjure. Six other people live in my building and I'm told I'll live here until I leave. It's a few of our first year here; and by few, I mean all of us on the upper level. I was supposed to room with Isodora Stroud, but she ended up running across the hall to her brother's room within twenty minutes. That resulted in him kicking out his roommate, Bram, and now I'm living with likely the hottest guy I've ever seen in my life.  
Bram is intelligent beyond belief. I can't stop grinning whenever he brings up books I've read. He loathes John Steinbeck novels and anything and everything Holden Caulfield. Thank god, another sane being. I got him on a Great Gatsby kick that probably could've lasted for hours if our parents hadn't come back from orientation then and found us living together. Hah, his dad was livid for a minute. His mother is nice, though. She hit it off with my mother really quickly. Dad kind of just hung back, smiling and nodding and checking his Blackberry. I don't think he could've felt less comfortable in a room with two other men than he did at that point, especially when it went from talking novels and intellect with Bram to world conquest and politics with Lord Devein. Oh, yes, Bram's a LORD. As in Irish nobility. He got very shy about the subject, but he was more than thrilled to discuss romance-era poetry and The Outsiders. The man is the best-read one I've met in...ever. Actually, he's the best read man I've ever met. Either way, our parents came to an agreement and my mother made him promise to take care of me, and then they left for tea and brunch or whatever it was.  
We settled in most of the day. He has a car, thankfully, and we can get to class in the rain tomorrow in it. I think he likes me. But...there is one small problem. Either we have to share the bed, or someone has to sleep on the sofa. How was I supposed to live with Isodora in here?_

Bram was starting to stir. I shut the journal, dropped it in and picked up the one I was currently using. Clicking a pen into place, I scrawled the date and a quick few lines of an entry.

_This is the last entry I'm going to make at Belfry Prep. Why is going to be elaborated upon later. We're leaving for Chicago very soon, where I plan on making myself known as Lady Gory Devein.  
The more I say it, the more I like it._


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

_Chapter Twenty-Three_

At some point after three, I had finished packing the majority of our remaining belongings and gone to bed. I woke again almost five hours later to Bram's nuzzling and gentle kissing. The moment I returned to awareness, I became very sure that I wouldn't sleep for a while.

Downstairs, something banged. I nearly leapt out of my skin. Bram exhaled, "Vinnie and Natasha have been up packing for almost two hours. Apparently they started at her place around five." He kissed my neck again gently to punctuate his lack of sleep. "I'm not sure if they're packing or having sex everywhere."

My cheeks colored and I stretched, rolling my shoulders back into his and allowing my head to fall lazily onto his shoulder, "I put twenty on sex."

He laughed lightly, raising my hand and pressing his lips gently to the ring on my finger, "Good morning, Lady Devein."

I smiled as I gently kissed his jaw, "Good morning, Bram."

He was the first to budge. I watched him circle the room, looking down at the remaining clothes I'd left out for him. He sighed, "Denims. And no last laundry?"

"We'll worry about laundry in Chicago," I said quietly. My voice was still muted without much energy. I felt as if I'd been sapped; packing, fighting, packing, leaving. While he gathered up what he needed, I finally asked what had lingered on my mind since last night. "Why do we have to leave?"

"Because we have no headmaster," Bram replied. "Because most of our casualties were faculty, and those who managed to escape early plan on staying away." He glanced at me with gentility; he knew how stubborn I was and saw my question for exactly what it was. With a little smile, he glanced toward the bathroom, "There may not be any Belfry Prep left, but I really hope you left out the shampoo and the soap. For god's sake, how late were you up last night?"

"I couldn't sleep," I replied. I swung my legs off the edge of the bed and watched him duck into the bathroom before I could change my mind and claim it first. There was another bang from downstairs, sharp cursing and tinkling yet uproarious laughter. Natasha and Vinnie were quite the pair. I got up and sat at the desk with my laptop connected to the charger, fueling up for one last check up before leaving. My father was on video chat, so I decided to message him.

_I'm sorry about the other night. It's was a mutual shock, to say the least._ Nice and smooth; don't frighten him. Break the news gently.  
He replied a moment later. _I don't blame you. Neither does Astrid, but I highly doubt anything is what you're thinking._ He continued to type, leaving me a moment to hunt for subtext. I found none. _She's going through a hard divorce right now. We actually met while her son was trying to get her home from the bar at the Drake. She was as stone-cold drunk as I was. It's become a mutual friendship._

"A regular Tale of Two Cities," I muttered.  
_I'm glad you have each other. But you're in business, not law. How are you helping her?_

The shower sounded warm and welcoming. There was a round of laughter, so joyous that it filled my soul from downstairs. I sighed, massaging my temples. I needed a coffee.

_Helping her make business arrangements with her husband. I don't have to be in law to understand a fair deal when I see one. Plus, I've given Valentine a part time job with the company. She's worried that without a father figure, he'll get into more trouble than killing time around the water cooler and flirting with secretaries will get him into._

I scrolled through my contacts and noticed him online. I was actually debating contacting him when I finally came up with the perfect idea. _Bram wanted to properly ask you for your blessing, so we were coming down to Chicago for a short break from school. It's a long story, but maybe we can all meet up then? I'll at least attempt to see what you see in him._

My father typed, stopped, backspaced and began typing again. _Good. I'm glad you're coming back. Your dead friends miss you, and I need a real woman's help around here. Astrid's nice and all, but we're two different kinds of people entirely. You would adore her cooking, though. She puts enough bourbon in the shrimp to get you buzzed halfway through the plate._

_Dad, your alcoholism is showing. We're taking you to AA._

There was a quiet knock at the door, and I called out, "If that's you, Vinnie, you better have brought coffee!"  
_Set up a flight for us, okay? We'd actually like to be there by tonight or tomorrow._

My dad was back to all business. The door opened and quiet steps crossed the floor to the bedroom. _You're probably not making any of them. Just drive down, I'll see you soon enough._

"Thanks," I muttered sarcastically, smiling slightly. I sent him the exact same before the door cracked open and Natasha's pretty, angular face peeked around the corner. "Hey." Her voice was a warm chirp, optimistic and lovely. "Hey," I replied. My father and I wrapped up and signed off as she slipped inside, smiling slightly, "So what's the plan, Captain?"

Bram strode in the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, still sopping wet, "Gory, where in all hell-" He stopped in his tracks, eyes widening. Natasha broke into a wide grin, running her eyes over him before waving slightly, "Nice to see you too, Bram."  
"Hello, Natasha," he said cordially, glancing to me with a look I interpreted as somewhere between _why in god's name didn't you warn me_ irritation and _I just walked out without pants_ embarrassment. I smiled, propping my elbow up on the desk, "Need something, sweetheart?"

That was the beauty of loving him; we could take the utmost joy in each others' misery and never hold it against each other. He unleashed the promise of payback on me with his gaze while keeping his tone civil, "I was wondering where you'd put my underwear."

Natasha couldn't contain herself anymore. She walked out for a moment, speaking between laughs, "I'll give you two a minute."

I smirked and gestured to the top box, "Your clothes."

Silently, he reached in, grabbed what he needed and walked back into the bathroom. He didn't look at me once, and when the door had shut, I laughed uncontrollably.

...

Salem's Lot Rental was having the best business it had ever gotten. Drivers were hired by our classmates, trucks loaded up before sundown had even neared. Vinnie and Natasha were taking his car, and I didn't think I'd ever seen a couple better suited for each other...besides Bram and I.

The hearse and the Impala were parked side-by-side in front of the building. Bram and I were loading boxes into the back while Vinnie leaned on the gas tank and chain-smoked. Apparently the both of them had packed up her things in the morning and he didn't feel the urge to do much helping beyond that. He had a legitimate beer on the roof of the car, rubbing his eyes slowly. As Bram and I made sure everything was situated before locking the back doors of the hearse, Natasha emerged from the building with a wide cooler of blood. "Has anyone seen Jonas?"

Vinnie nodded, "He packed up his car and left this morning. I think Isodora was in one of those bags."

"Don't be morbid," I replied. Natasha popped the trunk, placing the cooler inside and attempted to close it with no avail. She glanced to Vinnie before hopping up on the trunk and attempting to get her weight to close it. She had on an elbow-length, navy blue cardigan with white trim that matched her vintage dress. Her knee-length boots met the edge of her dress, delicate gloves covering her arms and a wide, lavender hat clearly rescued from the twenties tossed shade across her face and collarbone. Her wide, circular sunglasses perched precariously on the edge of her nose. They looked like a pair of comparable eras. Vinnie finally sighed, resigning and dropping his cigarette to the ground to grind it out with the heel of his sneaker. Lifting his beer from the hood, he drove his elbow into the trunk and got it to close with a harsh, slamming click.

"You don't have to be so rough, you know," she teased. He set the bottle on the back and rested his hands on either side of her waist, lifting her to the ground gently. He just smiled at her, "I didn't break it."

Bram walked around to the front of the cars, whistling sharply. They appeared one by one like shadows, all having escaped the varying shades of red and black into equally darkened mourning clothes. I was almost afraid they didn't know how to live outside of vampiric society.

"We've made a decision that will benefit everyone. Now, all of you...hear me out. This is not what you want, but this is what's best for us. You'll have to trust my judgement on this."

Quite a few of them stiffened. Even Vinnie and Natasha seemed to straighten, but I leaned against the hearse and simply backed him up.  
"We're going to Salem. Gory and I, and anyone who wants to join us, are going to stop off in Chicago first. I've made arrangements with some realtors to find us suitable housing arrangements and I've been in contact with the Headmistress of this emerging monster school. We're joining them. We're backing them. Do any of you remember when I used to talk of rising to power?"

I saw a glint in Tiffany's eyes. It wasn't foolish anymore; Bram was like a priest to them. They were lost, they were hurt, they were alone. He was giving them something to look forward to. We were giving them purpose.  
"We are going to make sure that if anyone decides to mess with monster kind, we are going to be there to stop them. We are going to rise and build a new nation, and eventually...we will take back what is ours. We are powerful and we have shown that. Now it is time to take our power to the next level. All we can do is rise from here."

They had puffed up with pride. Vinnie glanced to me and grinned, "Well in that case, Tash and I are following you two." Maybe it was my best man talk, or maybe it was the fact that Vinnie and Society never went together very well. I smiled lightly in confirmation. He squeezed her shoulders and murmured, "On the road again."

She patted his worn shirt with her gloved hand very gently, running the silky length of it against the zipper of his coat, "No drag racing."

"Yes ma'am."

I glanced at Bram. He still stood very proud and regal before them, but I was itching to get on the road. My mixed emotions were shifting. I was going _home._ I was taking my fiancee and my best friend with me. Even if the soul-ripping pain of a few weeks past was still present there, we could try to make it a lot less painful for everyone. Eternal life didn't have to be agony if we put enough effort into restoring our joy.  
"We're leaving now. Mapped directions have been emailed to all of you to our general area of Salem. You'll be met with aid and settle in as smoothly and comfortably as possible."

"When will you meet us?" Walter asked gently.

I smiled lightly, "Soon. Just meet up with Ruth and Charlie for us."

The prospect seemed to lighten them all. They were leaving, as Ruth and Charlie had. The faculty had, and Jonas had as well. They could remain in their bickering little pack while the four of us attempted to return to something familiar.

"How do you like the windy city?" Vinnie asked Natasha as they climbed in their car. I glanced to Bram before climbing in myself. He seemed to dismiss them before joining me, breaking into a familiar, content smile. "Well, I've always wanted to take a road trip across the US."

I clicked on the radio and leaned back, "Don't exceed the speed limit on the freeway. We really don't need to get pulled over now."

He smiled widely, popping open the console and putting a pair of sunglasses on. He rolled down the window part way and pulled off ahead of Vinnie onto the familiar road to the outside world.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

_Chapter Twenty-Four_

After the first hour or so in the car, the trip began flying by. We hit the expressway not long after getting out into the human world, and as we cruised along at sixty-five, I took in the sights. Countryside, cityscapes, bridges and rivers. Forest and valley and dots of little farms on the horizon breezed by while the day slowly deepened. We changed radio stations frequently and put in CDs when there were periods of time that we didn't want to hear it. It had been eleven when we left, and it was well after six when we decided to pull off in a truck stop. There was nothing but forest for miles and honestly, I had no idea where we were. Pulling out the map, I glanced down while stretching. "Another ten hours," I muttered.

Vinnie stepped out of the adjacent car, grinning, "Guess who's taking over for that drive?" He looked at a soundly rested Natasha. She simply smiled in return, shrugging, "Alright."  
I glanced to Bram. He was watching the trucks and cars from a safe distance. After properly assessing the situation, he glanced back to us. "Who's the most discreet of us?"

Vinnie beamed. His fangs immediately gave him away, but his eyes were darker than ours. It seemed to put Bram on edge, but he produced his wallet and unfolded a few bills, "Gory, Natasha...grab us some supplies?"

Vinnie tossed a twenty at me, "And pick me up some smokes too."

Natasha caught it and glanced to me. I reached in the car, grabbing Bram's letterman jacket out of the back and wrapping it up around my three quarter sleeved sweater. It was a cool, damp evening, and if we were going to play it casual...  
Vinnie took off his jacket and pitched it at Natasha. She caught it easily and slipped it on, breaking into a slightly sheepish grin. He pulled out his cigarettes and lit up, content to spend time outside the car. I sighed, wishing I had quieter shoes as we crossed the parking lot in near silence. People were going back and forth to their cars, the quiet sounds of emerging nightlife filling the air. It was cloudy, obscuring the sun to make it darker than it should've been. We slipped inside, unnoticed among tired truckers and families of travelers. Instantly, I beelined to the candy. Natasha followed, ruffling her elegant raven curls so they tumbled loose from the clipped bun she'd been wearing them up in. "I like Vinnie," she conversed quietly while I dispensed a handful of M&Ms into my empty makeup bag. My eyes flicked up toward her, "I can tell."

I combined them with some else, wasting a few dollars of mine on snacks, but eventually we migrated around the little truck stop and picked up some things from the CVS and food from the McDonald's. We rejoined the boys, letting them dash in to use the bathroom while we perched under the rising stars. She discussed Vinnie a bit more; the past, the future, the present surrounding them both and she'd told me quite a few previously undisclosed details. They returned to find us giggling and gossiping like schoolgirls, and after changing hands for the wheel, we headed off again.

I drove for the second half of our journey. Light traffic in the middle of the night and a slightly increased speed cut our time by a few hours. It was about dawn when we rolled onto I-80 and up toward home. Bram was fast asleep and well fed, and I felt as if we'd completed a journey all on our own. It was hard to slow down, getting off the expressway, but Natasha followed closely as I drove into the heart of suburbia.

The manor house sat upon the tallest hill in town. My parents had built the place before the town had been founded. Now, the town seemed built around it. Downtown was housed by a few main roads leading out to connecting highways. A nature preserve spanned the land around Fangtell Manor, dainty wrought iron fences covering the immediate few acres around the house. Homes were split by downtown, bordered by the rail lines and the expressway. Like many others before me, I took the road directly in front of the manor's gate. Unlike them, I pulled in the open gate.

Fangtell Manor wasn't as big as it could've been. The entire house was built within a third of an acre, four levels and more impressive on the outside than its interior. The outside was solid ivory marble with amber accents. Brass doorknobs and a pair of matching lion-mouth knockers graced the dark, solid doors. I pulled up to the garage and beeped the horn, successfully waking Bram and likely waking Vinnie.

"We're here?" he asked, blinking as he sat up.

I smiled, "You missed the dramatic drive-up and everything."

The garage rolled up a moment later, my father standing in his disheveled suit and clearly having been awoken by the sound. I pulled past him, rolling down the window to call quietly, "Dad, Vinnie and Natasha need to pull in."

He flipped up the switch to the other garage door and rubbed his eyes, "Apologies."

I climbed out quickly, crossing the concrete floor in a few quick steps. As soon as they had pulled in, I flipped down the switches and gave my father a forceful squeeze. It was only me holding on for a moment, but his arms did raise and wrap around me slowly. At first, it felt as if he were attempting to come alive from a deep slumber, but when he seemed to notice that I wasn't a figment of his imagination, he squeezed me tightly and buried his cheek into my hair. I felt as if he'd lift me on his shoes and walk with me balanced there like we had when I was little. My fingers wound in the back of his coat and I muttered into his chest, "Are you okay? Have you been sleeping?"

"Hardly," he muttered. He finally withdrew and noticed Bram, Vinnie and Natasha. Vinnie saluted with a wide, cheesy grin. Natasha echoed the look sheepishly while Bram seemed to still be awakening, leaning on the hood of the hearse and rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. He yawned, glancing to the both of us before crossing to my side with a hand extended. "Mister Fangtell. It's nice to see you again under slightly better circumstances."

I really wanted to remind him that the last time he'd seen my father, he'd actually been sober. Still, my father smiled slightly. I met his eyes, finding it very hard not to wince. His dark eyes were muted, more sober than they'd ever been. I doubted if alcohol was doing anything for him anymore. He looked as if he'd lost all ability to function on his own. "Bram," he finally said, "Thank you."

Sorrow settled into Bram's features, a cordial smile flickering across his mouth, "Thank you, actually. I'm sorry beyond all measure that I didn't join her for the funeral."

The loss returned to my father's eyes. He looked dead inside, similar to the way I felt at that desperate, hopeless moment. The thought crossed my mind that it was a mistake coming back here. I couldn't handle this. He couldn't handle this. We were lying to ourselves. It was such a shame that I was such a good liar.

I stepped past them, my heels clicking tenderly against the familiar tile and tracing the floor into the main hall. My dark, familiar home seemed even dimmer. The sun no longer existed in this house. The vast darkness seemed to strike all at once. I stood in the main hall stupidly, staring at the dead flowers in the vase on the table and the empty glass of melting ice with a little amber liquid gathered at the bottom beside it. I was frozen at a moment in time that I had intruded upon. I could vaguely remember when the flowers were alive and there was a coffee cup on the table, and despite all his effort, my father was soundly asleep and my mother was looking at him with the most lovingly patronizing gaze she could muster. Loneliness resonated through my chest.

He probably knew exactly what I was seeing. My father walked up beside me and rested his hand on my shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. "Your boxes are upstairs. I figured you'd want to unpack them yourself."

I tore my eyes away from the scene of my memory to glance to him. He looked exhausted and embarrassed, a ghost of the man he'd once been. "I'm sorry I didn't take your stuffed animals off your bed. I'm sure you'll want to do all kinds of wedding planning and I didn't get you any girly magazines or anything."

He was teasing, I could tell. He was trying and that was all I could and would never ask of him. I smiled, moving out from under his hand to peel back the heavy inner curtains partially. The translucent white under-coat still blocked out the sun, but it let in light. I opened up both main windows and went over to the vase, "Is the garden still growing, or did you stop watering that too?"

He shrugged. Maybe it was the first time he'd given it mind since she'd gotten sick. Maybe it had been more sudden than that. It was certainly sudden to me, and the details remained as much of a mystery as they could've been. I took his glass into the kitchen with me, pausing for a moment as I remembered my guests, "Vinnie, Natasha, this is my father. Dad, these are my friends from school. They decided to accompany us."

He walked around to the couch and sunk in, nodding once. He was likely too tired to pay attention and it broke my heart. I turned and walked into the kitchen to conceal the agony that I could no longer contain.  
My heart was tearing. I dumped out his glass and set it in the other side of the sink before pouring out the murky water of the vase. Tears fell silently down my cheeks, hardly even blurring my vision. I gathered the clump of dead, brittle flowers and threw them in the garbage can. My fingers were shaking. I set down the vase before I could drop it. My hand clasped over my mouth to muffle a sob that burst free suddenly. I sunk against the counter, propping my elbows against it and allowing the full force of my grief gush forward without restriction.

It was hurting him too. Bram rubbed my shoulder, gently supporting me. I heard the clink of the vase and knew Vinnie and Natasha were helping. It only brought a new wave of guilt at having brought them along at all, tinged with a thick undertone of shame. I shouldn't have to ask for help. I should be ready to hold my head up and step up to be the woman of the house. Minding my father would be my new job until I lost him too, like having a child. Very gently, my body was turned and Bram removed my glasses. He clasped them to my shirt and ran his fingers lightly over my wet cheeks.  
"Stop trying to be brave," he murmured, his firm grasp reassuring. "That's hurting me more than seeing you cry."

My knees buckled as if they were going to give out. I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into his shoulder to keep from crumpling to the floor. Like a loyal boyfriend, he clung to me tightly. Like a proper fiancee, he massaged the tension from the base of my neck. As a loving husband, he didn't say a word. He knew that reassurances did nothing to help, so he simply soothed me as much as he could with a touch and let the healing rain from my eyes do the rest.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

_Chapter Twenty-Five_

After getting my father somewhat more sobered up, finding Vinnie and Natasha a room and letting my guests settle in, I went to go see my mother. Alone.

The cemetery she was buried in was quiet and historical. She and my father had come out here for picnics before. We had family out here, grandparents and great-grandparents and the like. My mother hadn't wanted to share a plot in the ground with them. As much as heritage and culture was important to us, she and I had shared the same freedom from our families that had carried with her beyond her life. We had made sure that she had a place she would've liked to enjoy- a nice, shaded little cove where anyone could sit and watch the world. Her headstone was a bench with the tiny carving of a Pagan idol at the base. Her name was etched beside my father's, their birth dates and her death date beneath them. The ground was still soft and grass was only beginning to bloom. For irony's sake, I'd brought moonflower seeds with me and a trellis. People weren't supposed to plant there, but I did anyway. I nestled them right against the shelter of the base and fixed them up to grow where it was nice, damp and shaded.

"I miss you," I murmured as I dropped seeds into the ruts. "I hope you know that. I don't know if the word's reached you, but he proposed to me. I said yes. We haven't done much planning yet, but...I think I want to get married in the fall. When everything is dying, I want something to be new." I paused to tuck the dirt over the precious earthen gems. We loved night flowers. My mother's sense of humor was somehow even more twisted than mine. I missed it so much that it was painful. "You'd love it. You'd tell me to get married on Halloween, because that was when you and dad wanted to get married, but no church would have you."  
I laughed. I tucked my skirt around my knees and took perch on her headstone under the shade of the tree. The wind stirred my hair and I tucked a lock behind my ear, resting my hand on the bench beside me. It was chilly with the breeze. I took the cold as the illusion that she was with me and not living it up in the spirit world- whether Northern or Southern didn't matter now. I knew my mother. She'd likely be in Hell, just like we would. She wouldn't bow to anyone, least of all her maker.  
"I want to get married in that castle," I murmured. "Not a church. The castle with the peacocks and the gardens. You always wanted to go. And there's also no way in hell that I'm wearing white. Creme, perhaps, but not snow white. I'm too pale for that."

I wanted to pretend I heard her laughing, but I didn't. The whisper of a breeze passed by the baby leaves and stirred the clouds, but nothing else made a sound.

"I love him, Mom. You adore him, I know, but I wish you could see us. You'd be so happy. He's a real gentleman, just like you wanted me to have. He's loyal and gallant, determined and kind. He can be a bad boy too. You should see him fight. He's like Sodapop Curtis. Soda and Gatsby rolled into one. And he reads like you wouldn't believe. He's actually gotten me to find a balance in my life. When I'm done here, I'm going to go put on my bravest face and take care of Dad. Maybe I'll get to meet this depressed, alcoholic friend of his." A bitter laugh burst from my lips. I closed my eyes and sat back, clutching the edge of the marble bench. "Oh you should see him. God, my heart's destroyed and yet he doesn't seem to have much...gusto for anything besides breathing. Even if the school hadn't shut down, I'd have to come back and take care of him. He needs me. He needed this." I paused, regarding my words. "He needs you, but we both know that can't happen anymore."

"Why not?"

I sat up and snapped around. Jonas leaned on the tree trunk, a long, unlined black duster hanging open over his thermal and his dark jeans. His dark hair was ruffled and swept in his eyes, and I could see his car parked down the hill. I noticed the busted buttons and sighed. The least he could do for himself was go to Goodwill and get a new one. The best he could do was go to a department store and upgrade. His usually set-in-stone expression had melted into an exhausted openness that my father had made too familiar lately. He wandered over, his sneakers brushing the grass. "Hey, Mrs. F. I'd say nice to see ya, but it's really not."

"What are you doing here?" My eyes remained entirely focused on him as he circled around the bench and took a seat where I had imagined my phantom mother had been. He glanced over my shoulder. Normally, I wouldn't have turned away from Jonas Stroud for my life's dependency, but I did steal a glance at a little World War I-esque stone; a dainty, ovular slab with far-off, carved writing. I glanced back to him with a raised brow.

"Isodora's buried here," he murmured, "Our parents too." He nodded as if he'd told the story before, stealing a glance over when he realized I had no idea what he was talking about. "Dad went down with a Navy ship in the second world war. He managed to get his infantry to Iwo Jima. Hell, he lived through Normandy. Just not the boat exploding. Our mother died in the seventies. Thirty years without him..." He shrugged, hands still jammed in his pockets, "Her heart just couldn't take living with the grief anymore, I guess. But they oughta be happy, they raised one hell of a hero."

There were tears shining in his eyes and I found myself surprised. Jonas was, at the very least, ignorant and irresponsible. I'd always thought he was psychotic. Maybe, much like Coach Dewey, I'd misjudged. He shook his head, tossing his head back. There was blood on his lower neck, dried blood on his shirt. He'd been in a fight recently, and I immediately took back my misjudgment. He glanced at me with a raised brow, "Where are we going?"

"Oregon," I replied. "But Bram and I are staying a few more days. I have to look after my father for a while before we join you."

He got up and shook off his emotions. I sighed, waiting for him to leave so I could continue what I thought was my private discussion with my mother. He glanced at me, speaking very slowly and deliberately, "I killed a couple of hoods last night. They were knocking off a Seven-Eleven in the city."

"Good for you," I replied, glancing down at the seeds packed under the earth.

"I thought people like you saw the bright side of death."

I lifted my eyes slowly, "I'm not Romanian."

He grinned, lowering to his knees in front of me. I thought, for a moment, he was going to bite my knee. Instead, he rested his chin upon it and crossed his arms across my lap, "It doesn't matter how you die, you know. When you die, you're okay. Nothing hurts. Everything's okay."

I shook my head and pushed him off. He fell backward, looking up at me with surprise in his dark eyes. I rose, kissing my fingertips and pressing them to my mother's headstone while addressing him directly. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"My sister is dead," he replied, "I think I know what dying feels like. She tried to stay alive. She fought and she killed and she was loyal enough to kill the mongrels that killed her. She was panicked, she was scared. She lost her control and she was in pain. The only escape she had came minutes before she died. And I was looking for her. I was in pain, I was panicking and I was scared. I was actually fucking scared for the first time in _years._ And you know what? The minute I saw her, I knew. My heart was pounding out of my goddamned chest and splitting apart all at the same time and I just stopped feeling.  
My sister is dead and I have nothing left. It took me five minutes to stop feeling anything and a lot longer to stop crying. So don't fucking tell me I don't know how dying feels like, Fangtell. You have something left."

He began to remind me very much of the coach. The last thing keeping him alive was gone, and much like Dally Winston, he'd keep going until something killed him. Whether it was good or bad, he'd zig-zag across that line until someone killed him. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that he'd die that way and it made the pit of my stomach cold.

"I'm sorry," I replied. His dark eyes were bearing into mine, a whole head taller than me and a good portion stronger. He was the soldier that had stuck by our side in war and the monster of a boy that had never changed. "I can't bring them back. Neither can you."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. His strength had diminished again, returning to the exhausted state he'd been in before. He stepped back, opening a path for me back to my car. "Congratulations on the engagement. You know what they say, first comes love, then comes marriage."

I shook my head and started down the sloped earth. He lingered under the shade, watching me go. Before I reached the bottom, he called, "Fangtell!"

I turned, the breeze catching my hair and ruffling it about my face.

"Good luck."

An involuntary twitch at the corners of my mouth raised my lips just slightly. I nodded to him in a silent return of the sentiment and headed around to the driver's side, climbing in and immediately noticing my awakened phone in the cup holder. Raising it to see, I tapped the screen and pulled up the text from my father.

Directions spanned my phone with a tiny caption: _Meet us here when you get this_.

...

Vampire Academy seemed like the more public Belfry Prep. It was made up of about a city block of land with two large red-brick buildings, extensive athletic equipment and leisurely scenery. At the stop sign on the small road between the buildings, I glanced over at the little lake opposite the football fields. It would've been gorgeous if it wasn't more murky than a toxic waste pond.

I parked outside the southernmost building and headed inside. The halls were lined with athletics and for a moment, I contemplated their theater. It was a nice enough school...maybe we could call the others back after all. But the open doors of the gym released the sounds of Vinnie's laughter and Bram's, and my father shouting, "That's all you've got? You play like girls!"

There was more life in his voice than I'd heard in weeks, and it immediately broke my reverie to carry me into the room. Natasha was perched on the bleachers, watching the boys with a smile. Bram had shed his proper outer shirt and played my father and a boy I didn't recognize. Vinnie stole the ball, clearly on Bram's team, and made a sharp shot. His jacket rested on the bleachers beside my fiancee's shirt.

"Belfry Prep wins!" Vinnie declared, "And the crowd goes wild!"

Natasha giggled like he was the cutest thing on earth. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Bram was laughing breathlessly, his face slightly ruddy and a bit of sweat glimmering on his brow. My heart skipped a beat. He was flushed with exertion, alive and excited over something natural for boys. Suddenly, I wanted to merge the schools here. I wanted to keep my kind among my kind, but I didn't want to disappoint him and voice it if he wasn't as in love with the quaint little campus as I was.

They headed over, my father playfully attempting to strangle Vinnie. I blushed, lowering my eyes and breaking into a smile, "It's a feeling mutual to us all."

Vinnie shoved my arm as he went over to Natasha and stole a kiss. The boy paused just before me, drawling in a Southern tone, "Lesbian, huh?"

Bram broke into a grin. Somehow, I'd missed out on all the warm and familiar that had seemed to bloom between them. Regardless, his smile caused one of my own to dawn. "Valentine?"

He grinned, nodding once. He took my hand and shook it, giving it a squeeze before releasing. "I'd make nice like I would for any lady, but I've heard quite a bit from these three about ya. I'd rather keep myself outta trouble with you."

"You're smarter than I thought."

A glint of wickedness shone in his eyes. I smirked in reply.

"Your dad woke up, so we brought him out for something to do. Hope you didn't mind." Bram caught ahold of my arms and kissed me on the mouth. Firm and possessive, yet somehow still brief, the kiss sent a jolt of warmth from my lips to my toes. I could've shivered. My father was sober and somewhat happy. It was good enough for me.

"Let's head down to the ice cream place, shall we?" he asked, interrupting us. "I'd like you to meet Astrid."

Valentine smiled cordially, though his eyes said that he was the farthest from happy at being joined by his mother. I glanced to Bram, linked my arms around his neck and winked at Valentine, silently promising him that we with youth would go out on our own sometime. My eyes returned to my fiancee with limitless joy. "Interested in a proper malt and a sundae?"

"Like the greaser loves his hair gel," he replied, kissing me softly once again.

"Societal poser," Vinnie shot back, "You can't fuck with me, Devein. I know you've got greaser in you. Ain't no way a guy like you's as pure vanilla as you say you are."

"Of course not, I'm Irish Mafia." He was teasing, but I could tell that Valentine was interested. I playfully nudged his shoulder, stealing their coverings, "Go clean up. God, I'm not going out with you while you smell like sports."

Vinnie stuck his tongue out. Bram kissed my cheek and took his shirt from me, "Give us a minute."

I sat beside Natasha. She waited until they were to the locker room door before shouting, "And you say the girls take forever!"

Vinnie must've replied because they burst into laughter, even my dad. I grasped her hand and held it down to the bench to keep her from giving them the bird in as many cultures as she knew.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

_Chapter Twenty-Six_

Jonas's negativity still lingered in my mind as we split up between the cars- my father and Valentine in the one they'd drove there in, and Vinnie, Natasha, Bram and I in the other. Vinnie was relaying the game in detail with great enthusiasm. I couldn't pay attention.

I followed my father's direction to a T and when we'd pulled up in front of a vintage little ice cream parlor, Vinnie cheered and hopped out, dragging Natasha with him. Bram clicked the locks on the doors before I could reach for the opening lever. "You're upset," he murmured, "Why?"

I wasn't exactly upset. Confused and a bit hopeless, yes, but not upset. I linked my fingers through his and gently kissed his cheek, "I'm not."

Taking the keys with me, I unlocked the car and climbed out to leave him to follow. My father had waited at the door, a cordial smile returning to his face. No longer was he content; reality was setting in fast for both of us.  
Vinnie made quite the show of pushing his way between Valentine and Natasha and wrapping an arm possessively around her shoulders. She rolled her eyes, resting a hand on his knee, but the possession was mutual. The good girls always went for the bad boys since the bad boys always had the real hearts. Society killed people, that was the only truth of it. Vinnie and Bram had been blessed with society's fringe, I could only help Valentine was similar. We slid in beside Vinnie and Natasha, giving the young waitress behind the counter time to notice our presence. She sauntered over like she was in the south. Valentine glanced over with familiarity, breaking into a slight smile. Her voice, however, was anything but southern. I couldn't help but smirk slightly at her New Yorker volume.

"What'll it be?" she asked, popping a little, pink circle of bubblegum into her mouth.

"Pair 'a chocolate malts," Vinnie said, gesturing gently to himself and Natasha.

Glancing to Bram, I spoke lightly, "A sundae?"

He smiled. I linked our fingers.

"A strawberry and M&M smoothie," Valentine replied.

My father just shrugged. Our waitress eyed him with the expression most girls got around Vinnie. I could've laughed; I wanted to blurt out that he was my _dad_ and he'd been around lifetimes before she was even born- but for his sake, I ignored it too.

"A pair of Rocky Road waffle bowls," drawled a sultry Southern voice over my shoulder. I turned, half-expecting the female version of Valentine. My eyes widened in absolute shock. The idea that every woman was Dolly Parton crossed with Carrie Underwood in the south was clearly wrong. Astrid, I assumed, was _gorgeous._ Clad in a powder blue Audrey Hepburn dress, belted delicately at her cinched waist, she didn't look more than twice my physical age. Her hair was long and burgundy with an undertone of black, styled in fluffy curls that bounced just above her chest. She wasn't particularly chesty, she wasn't particularly curvy, but she was elegant and classically lovely. For some reason, my heart plunged. It took me a moment to process it, but when the thought crossed my mind, I dwelled upon it endlessly.  
She looked a lot like my mother.

Our waitress walked away and Astrid crossed around the booth to slide in beside Bram. She had a lovely smile, quiet and elegant like Mom's. If she had been warmer looking with darker hair, straighter hair, she could've been her doppelganger. My father smiled slightly, noticing her presence, "Afternoon, Astrid."

"Afternoon, Stefano." Her eyes were like a pair of polished onyx. I could've beamed. She extended her hand, delicate fingers tipping me off to a musical past. "And you must be Gory. I've heard nothing but good, sweetheart."

I took her hand and beamed, "So have I."

She glanced to Bram, Vinnie and Natasha before withdrawing. Glancing between Vinnie and Bram, her eyes glinted, "So which one is the lucky man?"

Vinnie laughed, squeezing Natasha, "Blondie. I mean I love her an' all, but not really..." He whistled. Bram slipped his arm around my waist, giving me the same gentle squeeze that Vinnie gave Natasha. His eyes shone with boundless adoration. Astrid beamed.  
It was rather instant. Conversation began, gliding as smooth as a swimming duck. We had our ice cream and talked for a very long time. She was a lot like my mother in personality. While I leaned my elbow on the table, she managed to win all four of us over, one subject at a time. The fifties had been her era, winning Vinnie, she adored fashion and music, winning Natasha and she could quote literature at a moment's notice. Bram and I were won in the same breath. Valentine contributed as much as he possibly could, and I found myself laughing at his boyish humor and his attempts at wooing the waitress only to have his mother embarrass him in the process.  
By the time we parted, I had taken back everything.

As we pulled in, Bram's eyes glided over to me. Vinnie and Natasha piled out and headed in to unpack as the other car followed us lazily up the driveway. My father's energy had been sapped; as had mine. I yawned, climbing out of the car and allowing Bram to lock up after me.  
The house had a bit more life as Vinnie and Natasha dashed up the stairs. They were laughing and running along the carpeted halls like children until the sound of their door closing sent a firm finality reverberating through our center living space. Fresh flowers sat in the vase on the table and surely the dishes were done. It looked as if my father's house staff had been cleaning again. As I took the stairs one at a time, I took in every detail of my home. A maid smiled slightly in welcome to my presence before scurrying down the stairs in the way I'd just come, silent as a church mouse. The rich colored paisley carpet wasn't new but wasn't old. The updated walls, the high ceilings, they were all so familiar and yet so new. Everything had taken on a newness with returning from this. I felt like I had been off at war for quite some time.

The east wing held my bedroom and Vinnie and Natasha's. The walls were likely inches thick, blissfully giving each room the isolation of an island. I'd spent the past century in this room, and a myriad of scratches and permanent scuffs on the floor gave it that proof. Instead of the simple-yet-luxurious bed at Belfry Prep, mine was as elegant as could be imagined. Eyelet lace had been dyed burgundy and draped lovingly in a triple-layered canopy that could fully envelope my bed if unbound. A velvet duvet covering the sheets was likely an inch thick, complementing the pitch black silk that encased my bed. My mattress, broken in and soft, felt like a real home as I crawled up and collapsed upon it. My fingers grazed the velvet while my eyes focused on the ugly stack of crates in the corner, waiting to be unpacked. As the door cracked open, I said to whomever was on the other side, "Do you know what I hate the most about packing? Unpacking."

Bram stepped in and shut the door gently, chuckling lightly. He glanced at the stack before heading over to the bed to join me, "Well, if it helps any, we likely won't be here long."

"Please, don't remind me." I wanted to leave a great portion of it all behind. This and the things we'd _actually_ taken from the car and unpacked. He sunk onto the bed with me and began toying with the ends of my hair, a soft sigh falling from his lips as they pressed lightly to the back of my neck. "Your home is lovely," he murmured, "You have a library. I don't know why I was surprised."

I kicked off my shoes and crawled up onto the bed properly, allowing him to join me. His arm snaked around my waist, tender lips brushing my skin repeatedly. I smiled, caressing his hair lovingly, "I saw Jonas today."

He paused, raising his head quickly. "When? Where?"

"At the cemetery. Isodora is buried there, so are his parents. I didn't know he was from here."

Bram's eyes darkened as he sat up and pulled me up with him. "He's not."

Even though I was surprised, I couldn't say it was very much of one. I laid down again as he got up, removing my glasses and setting them on the nightstand. I misjudged, hearing them clatter to the floor. "Shit," I muttered, rolling slowly onto my side. The floor was blurry, even squinting. I felt around to no avail. Without my glasses, I was nearly blind. The best I could judge was the distance between my face and the edge of the nightstand. Without surprise, the gentle clatter of someone else picking up my glasses and setting them on the nightstand reached my ears before Bram joined me in bed once again, tugging me closer. His hold was possessive, dark and lovely. "I want you to stay away from that guy. He's dangerous."

"Funny, they say the same thing about Vinnie." Locating his arm, I laid my head on it and exhaled slowly. "Jonas didn't upset me. He did the opposite, actually. He may be strange, but imagine how strange we are to people like Tiff. He's just an outsider, Bram. Just like us."

Very gently, he tilted my face back to his and pressed his lips lovingly to mine, "We were outsiders. Now we're their kings." His hand ran slowly up my spine and back down, tracing the path time and time again until the activity in my muscles ceased and I melted against him. Our fingers twined together against the pillow, his breath soft and warm on the back of my neck. "Trust me on this."

...

"Run!" the young man shouted over his shoulder. Sprinting through the cemetery, he vaulted onto the fence and scaled to the top. Belt catching on the top, he abandoned his jeans instead of wrestling them free. He knew he didn't have the time to free himself, not from the sounds of a shot and the subsequent screams that followed. Sure, the other Kings hadn't seen it coming, but he had been smart enough to watch the Lost Boys as a kid. He sprinted onto the busy highway in a simple pair of basketball shorts and down to a closed restaurant, taking shelter against the door momentarily. If a vampire was able to cross hallowed ground, then most of what he knew was a lie.  
Glancing over, his eyes caught on the Garden Supply across the lot and the young hoodlum busted the lock with a harsh crack. There were no cameras or alarms; it was a simple, mostly glass, metal and plastic building. His heart was racing as he charged for the garden stakes and grabbed a few wooden ones, holding them at his side with a firm grip. The door behind him closed very slowly, noticed only when the broken lock snapped into place.

"Yo, this...this ain't cool, man! We didn't disturb your grave or nothin'!"

The shadows were moving on their own. They were closing in, suffocating. He kicked over the bucket of sand, as if it would intimidate his coming attacker any. Garden decorations clattered on the floor with harsh metallic clangs and he readied a stake inches from his own chest, prepared to use his full momentum to drive it into the vampire's chest.

A pair of glistening, dark eyes opened slowly. The outdoor light caught an opulent fang in a soft laugh.

"Boo."


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

_Chapter Twenty-Seven_

The reverberating smash of thunder overhead woke me sharply. I grabbed my glasses and put them on instinctively, looking around for the source of the sound. My memory trickled back in an exhausted haze; I was in my home, in my room, in Chicago. The revelation caused my muscles to melt once again. I sunk back against Bram's coiled arm and closed my eyes. He shifted a little closer, burying his face in the back of my shoulders. I smiled at the fanning of his breath across my skin before an audible crack of lightning, bright enough to appear like sun for the fraction of a second it illuminated the room, made sure that my mood would remain in the tones of exhaustion. Foundation-shaking thunder slammed overhead again. I sighed. Bram rolled over, groaning, "Fucking hell."

"You see what I put up with, living here," I muttered and rose slowly. He glanced at me, ruby eyes glassy with exhaustion, "Where are you going?"  
"Tea," I muttered.  
"It's two AM," he practically groaned, burying his face in the pillow.  
"Then go back to bed." If it was storming this badly, I wouldn't be the only one awake and I knew it. He must not have been that bothered, because I could hear him return to his even breathing before I'd even fully left the room. I plucked my burgundy lace robe off the hook on the back of the door before heading downstairs. I probably could've changed, but the idea of putting all that much effort in and going back to sleep was just unappealing. My socks hit the landing, the carpet shielding my feet from the jolt of cold only for a moment. There was a singular light on in the kitchen, and as I approached I found not a soul there. It would've been eerie had I not taken the immediate conclusion that my father had left it on himself. As if lately wasn't enough of a tip-off to how exhausted he was, today...yesterday had been a clear picture. Shuffling in, I grasped the kettle off the stove and filled it with water. Putting the burner on high, I set it down and rifled through the cabinets for my English tea and a mug. A sharp, cold breeze rushed in suddenly.  
Celestial forces seemed to be intent on depriving me of sleep. I rushed across the room before the cold wind accompanying the rain could wake me any more than it already had. Pushing the windows shut and clicking the locks into place, I turned and came in immediate contact with Jonas. He was soaked to the skin, blood splashed across his arms and coating his hands. He was colder than most dead bodies.

I wasn't intimidated in the slightest. "It's like two thirty in the fucking morning, what could you possibly want?"

He stared at me cooly, his hands at his sides before he lifted them and seemed to offer them. I shifted my hand to my hip in utter exasperation, "Are you stoned? Do I need to call you a cab?"

"She's alive," he replied slowly.

I raised a brow, "With all that blood, that's doubtful."

He shook his head slowly, as if it were proof and he were a child trying to explain that the grass was green. "She's alive." The repeating did nothing to help my already fried mental state. I moved back to the kettle to shut it off before it whistled and he cut me off before I reached it with vampiric speed. He met my eyes and spoke to me very slowly, the way I spoke to people I considered stupid for not understanding before I had to repeat myself. "Your mother is alive."

My blood froze in my veins. The kettle began to stir with a slight whistle, but I didn't feel the need to move. The whistle built until it became inescapable, but it felt like the kettle was releasing all of my agony. I could never erase those feelings of loss, of guilt and terror, but everything I felt at the moment was overcome by absolute and resonating relief. He glanced over my shoulder and breezed for the window once again. He glanced to me with a slight smile before seeming to dissolve into the air as we did on occasion. Finally, with a sound that resembled half a sob crashing into half a laugh, I turned off the kettle.  
The floor was suddenly under my knees. I'd slid down the counter in the state that had taken over, somewhere between confusion and glee. I was laughing like a madwoman- I probably had gone half mad. My mind kept resonating with simple, enthusiastic, shockingly optimistic things. _When I get my hands on her, I'm going to hug her and kill her all over again for doing this to me. Dad's going to lose his mind. Oh my god, how? How? Never mind how..._ Sane or not, there was a measure of hope in me. Why did I know without a single doubt? A part of me must've known before it became obvious. Maybe something inside of me had never given up hope. Like Juliet, my mother had been to death's door without having ever been in true danger. I needed to run upstairs and tell my father, but no matter how much the necessity presented myself there was just nothing I could say that would sound sane. I couldn't just burst in the room at three in the morning and declare that she was alive. He'd call it a dream. He'd hug me like I was a little girl and send me back to bed and wallow in his misery for the rest of his life. I had no proof but my instinct and my instinct told me to trust Jonas as they always had- of course he was a psychopath, of course he was a monster, so was I. The only difference between the two of us was that his version of reality and fiction was a little more blurry than mine- and mine wasn't exactly limited to fifty shades of black and white, either.

I rose slowly and made my tea. I put a few scones on a saucer and carried them upstairs, detouring briefly to my room before making the trip across the upper level to my father's room. I hadn't been in the area since I'd had to borrow things of my mothers' before I left for school quite some time ago, and it was an area of the house I was relatively unfamiliar with due to the possibility of walking in on either or both of them at the wrong time. Cracking open the door just a bit, I glanced in and stopped in my tracks.  
My father was fast asleep in his bed with the doors of his balcony open. The curtains were freely fluttering their crimson mist around the entryway, somehow managing to block the rain but not my view of his visitor. Astrid sat on the edge of the bed, her hand resting over his. No breath left my mouth. The fading sound of my heart beating caused her to lift her head, but I could tell she wasn't surprised. By then, warm tears were racing down my face and I gently shut the door behind me. I crossed the room to her and stopped at the edge of the bed.

"You did your hair," I whispered.

She smiled gently, "You always were a hard one to puzzle."

A kernel of anger stuck in my throat. How dare she put us through this grief. How dare she wound me this way, how dare she leave him all alone without a word. How dare she make me think she was gone, how dare she not tell us, how dare she leave. How dare she at all.

I had a thousand questions and no time. She smiled, graceful and sad. Reaching out, her fingers laced through mine and she clasped both of my hands in one of hers. Her eyes met mine and she spoke in a very breathless, gentle tone, "I'm sorry. But you have to trust me."

"I can't trust you." Once my breath had returned, so had my voice. I was going through the stages of grief all over again, this time in reverse. I hadn't even finished my grieving the first time and already this was happening. "You left us. You could've just told us something was going on. You have a shitload to answer for, Mom, and _later_ isn't an acceptable response."

Whether it was age or maternal love that understood my anger, something did. She squeezed my hand and whispered very gently, very softly, "I need you to trust me, Gory. I need you to trust this. I am your mother and I will always be your mother, but there are things that I couldn't begin to tell you now-"  
I gave her a look. She smiled. "That I will tell you in time, I promise. I will tell you both in time. I promise you, if I didn't have to do what I did to protect you, I wouldn't have."

"Protect me from what?" I hissed. Dad was stirring, so she rose and clasped my hands in her warm ones. She leaned in, pressing her lips to my bangs and flattening them against my bangs. "Ask Jonas," she breathed against my skin. Her hands gently cupped my face, our eyes meeting once again. I felt little. I was warm and safe with her again. All the grief had been dispelled like a memory, leaving only fury for anyone who would dare have interfered in our happy little life and a tinge of terror that she was in some sort of unspeakable danger. "I love you," she reminded me.

"I love you too," I whispered. She smiled, slipping between the sheets of crimson. Pausing mid-step, my mother turned her body and stared directly into my eyes, "Don't tell him."

I nodded. A light smile flickered across her mouth before she disappeared into the night, preceded by a flash of lightning and seceded by a significantly more gentle boom of thunder. I closed up my father's drapery and moved across the room and down the hall to my room mechanically. Bram was still asleep, and once I closed the door, I stared at him for a very long time. My mind was swirling, still coated in a groggy stupor. The last few days had been harsh and it seemed as if everything was going to strike at once.

It was apparently there that he found me in the morning, fast asleep on the floor in front of the door where I had sat to think and decided not to get up from.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

_Chapter Twenty-Eight_

The Beatles drowned out whatever rain remained. It was still gloomy and overcast, but we were staying in anyway. Upon waking up, I changed and made myself at home once again. Our boxes had been pried open one by one and sorted through. My closet was looking full again, somehow not yet brimming and not the less-than-half full that it been when I left. It felt like home again after last night. I'd slept on the pain and the anger and found them muted in the morning. Either way, there were some things on my bed from unpacking that I intended to take with me. Before lunch, Bram had brought in the boxes from the hearse. It was a little after two, and I was almost finished unpacking for the both of us. That just came breaking down the boxes for storing in case they'd be needed again, and packing up what else we wanted to take with us.  
One of the reasons I didn't blame my mother for doing what she did was very simple; I knew her. I trusted her. My love for my family went too deep to hold grudges, even to serious things like this. She had taught me once to leave a little space in my closet for new things, and tuck it in a drawer if it hadn't been worn in more than a year. A lot of my old clothes had been taken care of that way. Her advice had extended past clothes and housekeeping, though, and I'd taken every word to heart. They weren't stupid and neither was I; they'd explained their purposes for things when I was young, and when I grew up enough to understand, they knew they didn't have to. They knew I had developed enough reason to function on my own and use their advice at my own discretion. Centuries later, I was still folding like she did and looking for more clothes of my fiancee's to unpack.

Tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I muttered into one of the empty boxes, "Surely he didn't just bring this..."

"From what I heard, he did. He wanted to make it easy on you."

I raised my head and smiled at Natasha. Her hair had been styled for the first time since the rumble, sleek curls pinned up in a bun with a few straggling against her cheeks. She entered silently, perching in my desk chair in a very ladylike manner, her knees together so her nearly floor-length peasant skirt brushed the carpet. I imagined Vinnie was probably taking her out to dinner in a few hours. A delicate grin crossed her face, "Do you need help?"

My things were unpacked and stacked up, and apparently so were his. I left out a box to stick the things I wanted to take to Oregon in and began silently unfolding them and laying them flat on the ground, "I'm almost done, actually. You look nice."

A tiny, wistful smile crossed her face. She smoothed her skirt, blushing a delicate pink as she glanced to the floor. "Vinnie and I are going out for dinner. He found a cute little diner not too far away. Your dad let him take out his motorcycle for a while. And apparently, there's a movie in the park that won't be canceled unless it rains." Her smile broadened. "They're playing _The Lost Boys_."

"His kind of horror movie," I replied, smiling in reply, "and ours. To be honest, I liked the remake of _Fright Night_ better, but if the original happens to come around, let me know."

She nodded absently, watching me as I took the stack of collapsed boxes and tucked them onto the top of my storage shelf- on top of other various boxes of hats, shoes and miscellaneous things. I picked up the remaining box upon exiting the closet and crossed the room, laying it at the foot of my bed. She rose, following me while I packed up the folded stacks and tucked my jewelry box between the top layers of clothes. She perched on my bed, clearly attempting to make a point, but I was working. I picked up the box and carried it over to the empty space at the end of Bram's side of the closet, setting it down by his shoes. When I walked out that time, I shut off the light and shut the door with it. My journals were tucked safely away among my books, hidden from the unknowing outsider. Laptop and phone charging, I felt accomplished. I sunk down on the bed beside Natasha and brushed my bangs out of my eyes, "You're horrible at keeping secrets, 'Tash."

She broke into a wide smile. "I never properly thanked you for saving all of us. The guys are going to Salem because they trust you. They know you'll follow. They know you're not just talking when you say you can fix everything."

She had faith in me that I didn't realize I didn't have in myself until she had brought it up. Maybe I was a good leader to them, but I'd been helpless for myself for the longest time. She was unknowingly giving me a greater appetite for danger than I'd anticipated having in my entire lifetime. "I do what I have to do, you know that. It's not fondness for them that got me to fight, it was the logic that I would rather kill than be killed. I can live with that." The pun hadn't escaped her. Her eyes glinted darkly. There was a wickedness in her, just like the rest of us. The difference between Natasha and I was hardly noticeable to people who didn't know us; if I hadn't put her in the position to kill or be killed, she likely would've never fought at all. If she couldn't hide, she would've run. She would've taken her chance at a peaceful escape before going to war, something people like me just didn't do. If for no other reason than my glorious, omnipresent Mediterranean temper, I never backed out of a challenge. Challenge me enough, and I could trigger an emotional explosion with a look. I'd done it before. I'd probably do it again. I was worse than Natasha; the lovely black leather-encased trunk sitting on top of the Russian trunk at the foot of my bed was as black as the abyss of my soul, and I couldn't think of a time when I wasn't okay with that.

The glimmer of darkness in her evaporated quickly, though. She glanced down before tucking a curl behind her ear and speaking very quietly, "Now that you and Bram are getting married, though...are you worried?"

I hoped my face expressed my genuine confusion. The emotion must've been properly conveyed; she backtracked quickly and locked her dark eyes with mine. "About all this, around children."

I laughed out loud. I couldn't help it, the sound had just burst out. We'd been together three years, the idea of children was laughable. My parents had taken their time with me, not like their biology hadn't helped any. If that part of the future was in store, it was a long way from now. I grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Sweetheart, it's not in the imminent future. For us or you greasers."

Her eyes widened. She probably would've slapped me had she not been attempting to act like a proper lady. I grinned until she did anyway. She rose from my bed, her seriousness evaporated, "You are Satan incarnate, Gory Fangtell."

"That's why he's marrying me," I replied. She shook her head as she left, likely to go find Vinnie before he could find us. My exhaustion had evaporated, leaving only contentment. I was home. I had to talk to my mother, the sooner the better, but I could put it off for a bit. I had a wedding to plan. The urge suddenly struck me to go out and buy extravagant, lovely things and make something out of what I loved most. Having the edge on my nerves evaporate was the most lovely feeling in the world. I hadn't even noticed my cat's entrance until she joined me on the bed, nuzzling my stomach and nudging my chest with her nose to attract my attention.

I scratched her, slowly and lovingly, behind the ears while a lazy purr trickled from her closed mouth. She settled on my lap, giving me a proper welcome home after having been gone so long. My contentment seemed to content her; the last time I'd been here, I'd been so emotional that she'd stayed across the room for fear of her own safety. "You know what, Sabby?" I murmured, scooping her up gently in my arms, "You're my baby. And I'm taking you to Salem with me." Hearse drive be damned, I was taking my cat this time. She licked my chin with her sandpapery tongue, nuzzling against my face. Her soft fur only reinforced my happiness. The revelation, as well as the readying to leave again, had brought me more peace than I'd imagined. I kissed her ebony face, rising to my feet and carrying her into the hall with me.  
Sabbath wasn't an ordinary cat, if her affection didn't give her away. About ten years ago, I'd gotten very tired of losing pets. We'd adopted Sabbath off the street, cleaned her up and found out she was between four and five. I turned her when my parents hadn't noticed and ensured her happiness until I'd had to leave, then I'd let them in on the little secret. Neither of them had been upset by it. Neither did Sabby.  
We wandered into the opposite wing, into my parents' bedroom. Things looked so much more different in the daylight. I tucked away the drapery and stared at the lawn. Birds danced around on the fresh ground, singing and chiming their adoration for the spring. A squirrel ran through the underbrush near the spot where the fence was covered by ferns encroaching from the forward-spreading forest. It was as if nature was trying to reclaim her land. I smiled, letting the curtain fall and turning on my heel. We headed downstairs, hardly noticing the sound of the boys hanging out in the back room.  
I took up residence on the lower steps with her. The boys were playing pool; I could hear the crack of billiards down the hall. Vinnie cheered and Bram cussed openly. He must've been losing; he was never very good at table sports. I sat back against the railings and smiled. This was the most normal I had felt in about a month. I was so at peace that I hardly noticed when my father opened the door, declaring with a measure of slightly forced joy, "Astrid! Valentine!"


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

_Chapter Twenty-Nine_

I smiled cordially at the both as the entered. It must've just begun raining again, as my mother's curls glittered delicately with rainwater. The elegance of Valentine's clothes drew my attention immediately and I rolled my eyes with a prolonged, noticeable laziness. "We're both taken, Paris. Perhaps you should've come straight to the party instead of showing up fifteen minutes late with Starbucks only to find me with Romeo."

Astrid shook her head, glancing at me. Her eyes shone maternally, cautioning me with a glance. Of course he didn't know, her eyes seemed to say, but please treat him no differently.  
I hoped my eyes conveyed my thoughts as easily as hers did, because _Mom._ He's likely my brother. I will not put up with him hitting on me.  
They must've. She smiled and hugged my father tightly. The facade was crumbling and I didn't have to be in on the secret to know. She held him a little tighter, a little more reassuringly every time. He was only emerging from the depression because he knew what I did, at least deep down. He responded with a gentle embrace of his own, obviously more warily. After my reaction, of course he didn't want to disgrace the memory of his wife or establish romantic feelings in any way for anyone else, least of all in front of me. Little did he know.

She withdrew only slightly, smiling to him with the intent to comfort him, "How are you holding up, Stefano?"

He shrugged. He'd probably tell her all of the details when I was out of earshot, so I took the hint and glanced to my rather uninvited visitor, "Come on Val, let's have a play date with the other kids."

Mom looked like she was going to choke on a laugh. Dad hardly contained his slightly shocked smile. Valentine shrugged, following me down the hall to the back room.  
The door had been propped ajar with a hardcover book. I tried not to laugh when I realized it was the only copy of a thing resembling a Bible that we had in the house, and it was probably used to store something. I gestured to Valentine to enter ahead of me before I nudged it partially open with my foot. There was no cutout for weaponry, but a flask had been in there once. I rolled my eyes and walked in, spying it glinting on the far bookcase. Obviously my best friend and fiancee had had a few drinks; maybe that was why I could tell Bram was trying to calculate trajectory while Vinnie lined up a shot. Valentine paused inside the door and realized the same conclusion, likely at the same moment as I did. Yes, we had money. Yes, we had time. And we were killing it in our own private bar-slash-arcade. In all honesty, this room was the only thing my father had done for himself in the entire house. It had a few vintage arcade games, but the centerpiece was the pool table. It even had its very own light above it. Since the room had no windows, it seemed more like a bar than the well-lit arcades of decades past. There had been a bookshelf slapped against one wall at some point, just under the clock. It was partially filled with books, but the lower half had functioned for an alcoholic cabinet for decades.  
Natasha was sprawled across the well-worn leather chair. One of Vinnie's cigarettes was tucked daintily between her fingers. I set down Sabbath so she could escape while she had the chance, though she decided to bed down outside the door instead.

"Valentine's here," I announced. No one looked up. Apparently the game of billiards was more interesting than having a guest. I seconded the thought at least partially.  
Closing the gap between Bram and I, I wrapped my arms around his torso and nuzzled the back of his shoulder. He relaxed a bit, linking one of his hands with mine. I tugged down his collar just slightly to kiss the back of his neck. He chuckled. "You're distracting me, sweetheart."

"How much did you lose?" I muttered against his skin. He allowed me to nip gently before responding, his tone light. "Fifty so far. I'm not stupid enough to raise the stakes against him."

"Pun intended," Vinnie said from across the table and snapped the cue against the ball so hard it flew from the table and almost smashed into the screen of the Pinball machine behind Valentine. It was caught in mid-air, though, and Valentine rolled it onto the table. "I'd like to take over whoever wants to play after this game," he replied, his southern voice still taking me off guard. He didn't look southern enough to have that rodeo boy tone. Maybe it was the fact that he'd likely been indoors his entire life.

I ran my fingers against the back of Bram's neck until he shifted, propping up his cue and taking a quick, sharp shot. I peeked over his shoulder, watching the first ball smack into one, that one smack into the other before it hit a third and effectively sunk all but one remaining ball on the table. Vinnie groaned, "You were hustling me!"

"No, I just wasn't focused." With an ever-present dramatic flair, Bram sunk the last shot with a resonating crack. Vinnie dropped down onto his backside on the floor, "Shit!"

"What did you bet?" I asked.

"Money he obviously doesn't have," Bram replied with a smirk. He turned, stealing a kiss before he took the singular fifty he had on the table and dropped it into Vinnie's lap, "Stoker, I'm not going to cry over a little cash. Besides, if I do get to see you in a dress in our wedding, you can consider out debt repaid."

"There is no way in hell I'm putting on a dress to pay you back," Vinnie nearly growled. Seeming to ignore him, Bram and Valentine readied for their game. Vinnie rose, leaving his cue on the table. Valentine swapped it out with another, polishing the tip and chalking his palms with a professional edge. Bram rolled his eyes, propping up his cue and leaning on the table. "So, where are you from?"

"Louisiana," Valentine replied. "My father's had a rice plantation in the northern part of the state for centuries. 'Bout eighteen hundred, he got a smaller Indigo one and passed it to me."

"How old are you?" I asked, toying with my fiancee's long locks. Suddenly, I didn't want to cut them. They were silky and golden, too beautiful to make ordinary. His ruby eyes flickered to me, a tiny smile touching his lips. I brushed his bangs gently from his face. He caught my hand and kissed my palm as Valentine responded, his tone wavering in strength. I guess our display of affection had been noticed.

"Five hundred twenty-two."

I turned to him. That would've put him born in fourteen ninety one. That would've made him a hundred and seventy-one years older than me. But my parents had been together...  
"Is Astrid your mother?" I asked. He rose a brow. Of course the question probably confused everyone else, but it was a necessary question. _Oh please don't let him be my brother. Please don't let him be my brother. Don't give me a reason to resent my mother. Come on universe, haven't we been through enough?_  
"No," he replied carefully, "She's my stepmother. But she and my father have been together long enough that I don't remember my birth mother very much."

I hoped he couldn't see how deeply I'd relaxed. Valentine was my mother's child ward. The son she never had and always wanted. Either Bram was intent on a cross-examination, or my strange behavior was more noticeable than I'd thought. "What about your father?"

"She calls it a divorce," Valentine replied with a triumphant smirk. Bram raised a brow while lining up his shot, taking Valentine's chatter as the open floor to start playing. When it seemed we hadn't caught on, he added in a quieter tone, "She killed him. But she's splitting up the assets and such, making it seem like she's leaving him. It's a long story, but we know what we're doing. Stefano's already sworn to secrecy, might as well let ya in on it too."

That sounded like my mother. Had she gone into hiding simply to cover herself? But the other identity had been clearly contrived from the beginning, maybe...

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe my father had been contriving his grief all along. That was why he was so eerily calm before. That was why it had taken time to hit. He wasn't really drinking, he wasn't really grieving with someone else, he was playing everyone and he thought he was playing me. They'd obviously wanted to keep me ignorant in case of a backfiring, but...

I was going to explode from holding in a smile that large. I'd been on the stage for three and a half years, so I could keep a straight face when I needed to. It was just a little difficult with this much revelation occurring at once. Bram squeezed my waist gently and murmured into my hair, "Grab me a coffee?" He couldn't have been more than buzzed, but if he wanted to aid the charade, he gladly could. I nodded, grateful for the excuse and promised him with my eyes that I'd tell him everything later. I slipped out of the room, heading toward the kitchen before sharply blurring with speed and changing direction. I stopped outside my father's study, listening to the soft voices inside before sharply jerking open the door and stepping inside. It was as dramatic as possible, but they both knew it would happen sooner or later.

"I know," I declared, putting as much force into those words as I could muster, "I know everything."

They'd broken apart upon my entering, both staring at me with open dismay. It took a moment for my words to process before my father sunk back against the sofa, "We should've never tried."

My mother smiled, shaking her head, "I hoped last night would throw her in the slightest, but apparently not."

"Last night?" he asked.

"I'll tell you later," she replied. Her eyes turned on me, gentle and pleading with an undertone of relief, "Don't be angry with us. We did this for your own good."

"And Valentine's," my father replied.

"I'm not angry," I replied, allowing myself to smile. I took a seat beside my mother, "I just want the whole story. And you can swear me to secrecy too."  
Me _and_ Bram.


	30. Chapter Thirty

_Chapter Thirty_

Absolute warmth coursed through my blood. My skin was hypersensitive, and the familiarly bipolar weather was only a slight contribution.  
Bram's fingers ran slowly up my stomach before his arm snaked lovingly around my back. I made a tiny sound of contentment, his soft lips tracing my collarbone. A cool breeze fanned in from the partially open window, only slightly soothing the flush in my skin. He nibbled just under my jaw, causing my toes to curl. I squirmed away, smiling openly, "I hope you intend on following through if you're going to keep going."

His hand began to move and I laid on it to trap him in place. He laughed lightly, tangling his fingers in my hair as he raised his lips to press to mine again in a slow, smoldering kiss. I swore my heart was beating at a human pace. "You gave up," he murmured against my mouth, "I know you're not ready for more."

I could've whimpered. He didn't dare deepen our kissing any more with the both of us still so breathless, but he did tug me onto my side to face him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and placed a few punctuating kisses to his neck in return. Being allowed access to a vampire's neck was one of the greatest signs of trust another being could unlock. He sunk back onto his back and tugged the pillow down under his head, allowing my lips to continue brushing his skin and soothing him. His fingertips caressed my spine, running upward and downward gently from my shoulder blades to the small of my back, over and over again. We were melted against each other like crashing icebergs in the Arctic summer. I ran my hand over his chest, the quickened thrumming of his heart against my palm enough to sustain the warmth in my skin.

"I love you," I whispered as I propped my chin up on his shoulder. He raised his other hand to toy with my hair while his ruby eyes locked with mine. Half-lidded and lazily gazing into my own, they echoed the picture of contentment that had taken him over. He raised my hand from his chest and kissed the pulse point of my wrist gently. "I love you too." I lowered my head and kissed his shoulder. He craned his head to kiss my neck. Eventually, we simply laid together, partially clothed by our sheet and the soft caress of the fresh air. I felt as if we had finally reached our return to stasis. Now, we'd really be okay. Everything was the same, even though nothing was. We laid in silence like that together for a very long time, cuddling each other with the lamp on the table beside my bed as the only light in the room. Maybe it was the only light in the house. I had thought he'd gone to sleep and was drifting there myself when he spoke with surprising alertness.

"I'd do anything for you, I hope you know that."

I raised my head ever so slightly, staring at his face. He was staring at the canopy, deep in thought as I'd expected. I massaged his bicep gently. "You have. I could never ask more of you."

"Just don't take offence when I say I would never do what they've done, nor would I let you." Of course, the discussion had come back to my parents. I sighed, nuzzling into him once again.  
"I wouldn't either. Of course she's alive, but that doesn't erase the agony she put me through. Of course Dad's a good actor, but surely she's missed calls. Surely he's had a moment of desperation where he thinks that she won't be coming back to us. I wouldn't ask you to go through that."

For a moment, he was silent before he murmured, "I think I want kids."

I rolled over and pushed myself out of bed. He propped up, golden hair mussed from the pillow. I slipped on my nightie and my robe and shut the window, covering it up to block out the sun. Remembering my slippers this time, I started for the door. He fully sat up, "Where are you going?"

"I really did not want this to be our discussion at almost one-thirty in the morning. I've had to go through this with Natasha, and I honestly don't want to discourage you, but...can we put this off? I love you. For Christ's sake, Bram, I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and I'm allowing you to start now. I've been allowing you to start now for three and a half years. But I have things to do and there's only so much of myself I can give up at one time."

His eyes widened. It took me a moment to realize that I had genuinely hurt him. He ran his fingers through his hair and stared at me before shaking his head slowly. I was back at his side in an instant, supporting him as he did me. "I didn't mean it that way."

"I've never asked you to give up anything of yourself," he cut me off, grasping my hips firmly and pulling my body closer to his, "I could never ask that of you. I love you in all that you are. Don't you understand this? If I didn't love you for all that you are, I wouldn't love you at all."

"I know," I murmured. My voice hardly rose above the tone of a child being yelled at by their parents. Maybe it was him or maybe it was men in general, but he didn't seem to understand the concept of love and marriage being two completely different things. They frequently interlaced, but marriage was more than being in love. It was tying everything about the two of us together. Our names, our legalities, our money, our lives. The thought of losing my independence was picking a fine time to strike, the last thing I wanted was to lose all of it under the constraints of a child.

He stared at me, desperately trying to will me to understand his viewpoint. He was so blissfully in love with me that he'd never think twice about it- I wasn't even thinking twice. There wasn't an option of backing out, not to him. Not when I loved him too much to let go of him. He was the best thing that had ever happened to me. If I'd had to trade my vampirism for a normal, human life with him...I'd do it. Because it didn't matter how long I lived if I was with him. That was likely where my parents and I differed. They'd rather a long life span and partial disunity than to stand by each other and risk it.  
Bram didn't see it as giving up my independence. He saw it as simply making everything about ourselves as one as we could make ourselves physically...sometimes mentally and often emotionally.

I squeezed his hands, staring into his eyes in return, "It's not necessarily a bad thing, but it is happening."

He smiled with a twinge of sadness, trying to comfort me and only adding to my despair. "I don't know what you want from me," he murmured. His tone only deepened in defeat while our fingers interlaced. "This is the first time I genuinely don't know what you want."

I was honestly torn. I was fighting for control to be a singular being, one unit, one cell in a battery. I wanted to establish that we were two separate beings, two completely different individuals and yet we shared everything. We might've been two separate beings once, but we hadn't been for three and a half years. He was my safe harbor. He would always keep me out of the brunt of my trouble, allowing me to fix it or him to aid. We were just each other's support. Individually, we were probably very horribly depressing individuals. Together, there was something inexplicable between us. It was like a chemical reaction; we just were. We had been two separate elements and then we created something else, made of us both. Something that we just couldn't reverse.

I curled up against his chest, wrapping my arms tightly around his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder, "Don't worry, neither do I."

"Is it me?" he whispered, pressing his hands to my back.

"Always you," I murmured, closing my eyes and kicking off my slippers. He slipped off my robe and tossed it across the foot of the bed, tugging me down beside him. I giggled, nestling in and allowing him to turn off the light. Slipping my glasses off my face, he placed them on the nightstand for me. I closed my eyes against his chest and buried myself against him, making the two of us as one as we could be.

"I'm tired and talking stupid," I murmured, "I just need time to adjust. Things tend to hit me harder late at night than they should."

He shrugged, closing his eyes. "You think this is a lot at once, you'd be surprised at how much wedding planning will take out of you."

I laughed, cuddling up to him a bit more, "I'm going to pick things and make other people do the arrangements. If you want it done right, leave it to Vinnie."

There was a short moment of silence in reply. I almost thought he'd fallen asleep until he mumbled, "Are you going to put him in a dress?"

"I was joking," I replied.

He grunted slightly in reply, adding on, "too bad" for good measure. I didn't reply; I knew he was tired. I was too after entertaining guests and keeping Vinnie out of trouble all day. It took me a few moments to fall asleep, my ear pressed to his chest to listen to the thrumming of his heart. It hurt my own to know that one of us could risk falling out of love with the other and one of our hearts would still be beating solely for them. It was a terrifying thought, and as if he sensed it he pulled me closer. Some nights, Bram decided to cuddle like Sodapop Curtis.  
Tonight was one of the nights where I didn't mind, and happily tucked myself against him in return.


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

_Chapter Thirty-One_

We had spent about a week and a half in Chicago before the talk of leaving came up. Charles had video called Vinnie and given him and Natasha the entire story about how Walter had rushed out to Salem and beaten everyone by two days. Apparently, he and Ruth were happily in love and still treating him like their child. A part of me did pang with the separation from the rest of our strange little family, but Chicago was fun. Valentine played on the Vampire Academy basketball team and we went to see him frequently; he was also an avid thespian and we'd made plans to see him in the next show. We ordered in from places and eaten things that I hadn't seen in years, and we'd been to the city already. I hadn't actually established when we were going to leave; I'd assumed it was going to be after we did whatever we need to do to allow my mother to come out of hiding. But the decision had been made for me, apparently.

"We're leaving on the last week of April," Bram replied to my father's question, "Long enough to indulge these three in that comic book convention coming to town before we pack up and head to Oregon."

"Well, I hope you know what you're going to do when you get there," Dad replied, glancing to me. I shrugged, glancing to Bram. He raised a brow slightly. I lowered my fork and returned my gaze to my father, "We're getting a house. With a lawn. No more flats."

Dad broke into a grin. Bram smiled slightly with genuine surprise. Vinnie beamed, "So in that case, can we bum a couple'a rooms? I'll get a job, pay ya rent."

"A room," Natasha murmured.

Valentine pulled a fifty out of his wallet and threw it across the table to me. I grinned, plucking it up and sticking it in the pocket of my shirt. The exchange had gone mostly unnoticed, save for Natasha's furious blushing. My mother was on her side of the table, down farther toward the pair of my friends. It must've been strange to be sitting so far away from my father. It must've been so strange to be living like this; maybe it wasn't. Obviously Valentine knew nothing, or at least he acted that way. The act had to have been kept up for quite a while there. She glanced toward us with a look of muted regret. I wanted to tell her that I understood and that I could only do what they allowed me to, but I couldn't even look her way. Not when it was so risky.

Bram glanced to me, catching the look and understanding himself. He knew that the utmost guilt I felt was from being unable to do anything. He knew, perhaps better than anyone, that we had to leave to avoid suspicion falling on my family. Of course it was the last thing on anyone's mind, but all we needed was an errant thought to stick with someone. I smiled and lowered my eyes, flicking them back up to meet his almost shyly. The joy in my expression deepened, causing a genuine glint of it in his face. The best part about keeping up the appearance was that I didn't have to act. I only had to be. Still, the occasional pang of terror hit and made it impossible to sleep or caused turbulence in the pit of my stomach so violent I could be sick. The entire world was blind to our despicable knowledge, and I wished- temporarily- that I was too.

I finished dinner and left the dining room feeling as if I'd had no nourishment. I walked out on the enclosed back porch and took out one of Vinnie's many stashes of cigarettes. I was too restless to take up my rocking chair or even a perch at all. Instead, I cracked open the outermost door and took up a step while lighting it and prayed the nicotine would calm my nerves.

"You could've had bloodwine with dinner."

Natasha following me out hadn't been surprising. Even if I couldn't tell her anything, I had to admit how grateful I was for her company. She looked at her glass before glancing back to me, continuing speaking softly. "I didn't know you smoke."

"I don't often," I replied. Wracking my brain for the last memory of doing such, I couldn't remember. The last time I'd had a real cigarette had probably been the thirties. A real, hard drink? The eighties. The one incident of any actual _else_ was Woodstock, and that had been an act of rebellion. For what, I no longer remembered. It was funny how so much mattered in a moment, yet in the long run it didn't matter at all. I massaged my temples and resisted every instinct in my body; yet I still felt sick. I was homesick more than I was guilt-sick, and I hadn't had enough time at home. I didn't want to call another place my home just yet.

"I think you ought to leave your parents' home," Natasha said gently, "Pack all of it up this time. Find a great place and continue there."

I rose and descended the rest of the stairs. The grass was short and caressed my sandaled feet. When was the last time I'd felt grass under my feet? When was the last time I'd walked out in this yard? I vaguely remembered the building of the swing set and the adjacent cabana. It had been an attempt at a childhood that I hadn't experienced, and I'd holed up in there reading books for quite a while. I'd even dashed out in the rain once to fetch it from there. Now, it was old, slightly rusted and the canvas roof was slit and flapping with the breeze. I walked across the yard to it and climbed up the plastic slide to duck in the little six-by-six space. I could see the stars. That was one thing I couldn't see in the city; I wondered if I could see them this way in Salem too, or if it was too big of a city.

"Do you know why I love this house?" I knew she'd followed. She always followed. Natasha was smart, she knew when to leave and when to join and she knew that my pride kept me from asking for help more often than not. She joined me in the tiny cabana and smiled, "The view?"

"My dad built this place," I murmured. "It's my heritage. It's the first thing we really had. We lived in Italy before this, in my grandfather's place. Then we moved to the coast and we made our way here, making money as we went. This house is the proof that the Fangtell family was able to make something of themselves. I know, marrying into nobility is probably going to bring honor to the tragic family. It's going to paint me a Kennedy." I took a long inhale of tobacco and held it in until my nerves unwound. When I released my breath, I felt like a dragon. The back of my throat almost promised a following flame, but none came. Returning my breathing to normally, I sighed. "I'm tired of having people only see the surface. I'm old, Natasha. I wouldn't marry Bram if I didn't love him. I wouldn't leave home if I didn't have to. I wouldn't go to school, I wouldn't try to make something of myself. He wanted me to pass him up, he wanted me to do better, I know that nobility is the best I can get but I want to do something for myself too."

I hadn't actually done anything for myself but be with Bram. Rebelling against my parents decades ago had been for me. Sabby had been for me. Bram had been for me. My choice of school had been for me. That was it. I could count on one hand all the things I'd ever done for myself besides buying figure-flattering clothes and sweet-talking everyone in sight. It was easier to manage ten thousand friends than ten enemies. I had the very sudden and violent urge to storm back in that house, grab a bottle of wine and hide out in my bedroom with Sabby. I was so sick with myself that I was sick with my own feelings. It was a difficult thing, being torn. It tended to stay for a while.

"Your grandfather built a house," Natasha said slowly and calmly. I nodded, staring skyward while my cigarette burned out in my fingers. "So did your father."

"And? They do that, it's a generational thing." I replied.

She shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "Go to Salem and build a house. You are just as good as them, Gory. You might even be better, I don't know them well enough to judge. But I know about happiness, and seeing you worry and sulk isn't seeing you happy."

I couldn't breathe what would make me happy.

"They can take care of themselves, Gory. They're adults. There comes a point when the child becomes the parent and they have to let go too. You're both people. You're both vulnerable. And if I do say so myself, I think he and Astrid may have chemistry of their own. You shouldn't worry so much."

Oh god I wanted to laugh. I turned my face to stop from smiling.

"Just let go and go build your own home." She paused at the edge of the slide, adding as if for dramatic effect, "Make your own paradise."

My paradise had always been our tiny corner of the suburbs. This place had always been unconditionally and irrevocably mine. Leaving it, leaving my family behind on it, it was a hard thought to cope with. Leaving my heritage, my past, the safe bubble of comfort that my life had been and starting over was not a pleasant idea.  
We were young, we were in love, we had friends we liked enough to rent part of the house to and we were intelligent enough to make it work. It was a crazy enough thought to act upon.


	32. Chapter Thirty-Two

_Chapter Thirty-Two_

I'd tried to pack again that night, but I hadn't been able to. I'd looked around and I'd been unable to imagine leaving. It lead to the most logical thing I could've done; I went out for a while. Vinnie and Natasha had gone out not long after it had gotten darker, leaving the large house void of sound.  
A little piece of my sanity was getting dependent on having them with us, even if they were becoming their own unit like Bram and I were. I hadn't asked where they were going off to, but with my hair clipped up against the base of my skull, I headed out into the streets of the general vicinity.

When you got to be as old as I was, you learned a few things. Always hunt alone if you can help it; bringing someone with you may be helpful in the neophyte stage, but as a skilled hunter, they only add unnecessary worry or slowed you down. Never take the direct route from your hideout, and never be yourself if you can help it. So of course, I cut through the nature preserve and emerged in one of the lots near the expressway before looping all the way around and striding into the rail yard. With my hair up, I could surely pass for a boy under my hoodie; it wasn't like it wasn't baggy enough to hide curves, and with it pulled down over my hips, it looked like my pants began where it ended, just the effect I wanted. The rail yard was surely home to hoodlums, drunks and bums- I tended to avoid the homeless. It wasn't a pedigree thing, it was more that they'd suffered enough without my help. Of course I never corrected anyone, but I hardly did on many things about myself. It was better to let people think they knew you than to let them know you, in most cases.

The homeless shelter that had opened up in the basement of the church had left them clear of my wraith tonight, and it was too early for drunks to be stumbling from the bars. I slid into the building behind the historic train cars. If the cameras weren't off, they wouldn't know. That was enough for me.  
There weren't any cameras in the interior. I couldn't remember when the building itself had been vacated, but a thin trail of rail line from the preserved cars covered the upper level, the concrete floor separated from plunging into the lower floor by a thin, rusty metal railing. Steps made of steel, coated in chipped blue paint, led down to the other concrete level where I heard some boys laughing and cheering over the falling of dice. The sounds of their voices reverberated off the inside of the tin-plated roof and made my ears tense. Hunting instinct burned in my gut. I waited, looking around for security of any kind before heading silently down the stairs. My sneakers didn't make a sound. I was starving and I didn't realize it until I was so close.

There were four of them. My back bristled like a cat's. Two on one side with their backs to me, one on his knees rolling dice, one on his opposite side. It would've been logical to break the one who could see me, but he had a cute face and a boyish figure. He was younger, cleaner. They were all teenagers, but I could tell which were the more street-experienced. He was green, probably a schoolboy trying to fit in. My heart went out to the kid and his family, but my stomach was trumping my emotions at the moment.

To him, I blurred with speed. To me, I'd just rushed the two at his other side and hit them hard enough to break their spines. They crumpled. The one on the floor didn't have time to react before I cracked his neck and grabbed the little one. He screamed, wrenching away. His back was to my chest and I could hear the pounding of his heart. It was a luscious sound. The blood coursing through his veins was frothy with fear, sweet with terror. Sweet with youth. My mouth was watering.

"Please don't," he sobbed, "Please. Please, please I don't belong with them I just came today I'm new I promise. I don't know what you have against them and I don't care just let me go please, please..."

He was a frail little thing, shaking in my grip. I could feel his bones with my grip. He was a witness. Out of principle, I couldn't let him live. But out of some greater principle, I did. I let go and growled at him. He didn't look at me as he took off. I knew what he'd say; white guy, teenage. Slight build, maybe medium. Black hoodie, jeans, sneakers. Didn't get a look at his face. Part of myself was furious for letting a meal escape, but I had one moral that I bothered upholding. I never kill kids.

The one that had been rolling dice was second best; little older than him and no tattoos, no drug marks. Probably just a hustler and a hood, maybe a dealer. I hoisted him up slightly and sat down, rolling his face to the side before sinking in my fangs. The blood was still warm, rich and filling. It wasn't sweet and frothy with terror, but it wasn't bad. It was equal or slightly better than pasta with herbal dressing. It only took minutes to drain him dry, leaving me slightly overstuffed. I got up slowly, muffling a dainty belch, and began searching for a gas canister. The rail yard had been notorious for them, but I supposed with the economy the way it was...

"Jackpot," I muttered, finding a pair in a cabinet and bringing them back to the body. I dumped about half of one on it before producing my lighter and catching the collar of his shirt. He went up, leaving his dirty friends laying against the wall. There were optimists and pessimists in the world; I was simply an opportunist. While everyone else was arguing over the glass being half empty or half full, I drank the water. The economy was shit for everyone, and I reminded myself that while taking the gas cans with me. Of course I didn't take the same route twice, but I ended up in the garage after a nice forest hike anyway, ditching the gas cans and my hunting clothes- but the clothes went in their own wrapped bag in the clean underside of the garbage can instead of the underside of the work bench. I smoothed my skirt and slipped out, only just starting down the driveway when the outside lights flicked on. My heart skipped a beat like any teenager caught in the act, but returned to its normal pace when Bram stepped out and grinned.

"Taking advantage of the nice weather?" he asked pleasantly as he crossed the yard to my side.

I smirked, "Something like that."

He wiped the corner of my mouth with his thumb, raising the remaining drop of red to his lips. I grinned, licking my lips to rid them of lingering redness. "Try to be discreet," he murmured, "I know you're all for leaping into a _Les Mis_ revolution, but it might kill more people than we want to at the moment."

I scoffed, lacing my fingers with his. We walked down the lawn and out of the main gate, down the dimly lit residential blocks to the little downtown. The streets brightened with classic lampposts stationed every few feet. The library in all of its multilevel red-bricked glory sat familiar beside the ornate little church. We crossed at the corner, passing the gas station and heading into the less occupied little bar.

By now, we knew how to find Vinnie if he wanted to be found. Natasha was sitting at the bar on a red vinyl swivel chair, a generic beer bottle at her side that I assumed she wasn't drinking. But Vinnie had the attention of most of the bar's patrons while he single-handedly beat two bikers at pool. Both of the doors to the establishment were opened, circulating the air and making the alcoholic scent a little less noxious. A few eyes flicked to us as we entered, raising their brows as if to say _more kids?_ Bram and I could pass for our twenties, but Vinnie and Natasha had a hard time not standing out as jail-bait. How she'd even gotten a beer was beyond me.

"Boom! Two in the hole, and the game has been won!" Vinnie declared. Oh please don't be playing for money...

"You hustled us, you little fuck-" one of the bikers growled. He had buzz-cut hair and a t-shirt with sliced sleeves. I was very tempted to make a cut-sleeve pun, but it was both offensive and would go unnoticed by the illiterate muscle-heads entirely.

Vinnie held up his hands, "Wanna play again? Cause I'll beat you again. I've got no problem with that. I never said I wasn't gonna win."

Bram slid past me to go speak to Natasha. "He got kicked out of the other bar, didn't he?"

"Actually, he beat a handful of guys at poker and almost got chased out," she murmured to him in reply.

The bartender looked up. I walked over and put my hand on Vinnie's shoulder, "Let's go."

"No, they owe me money," he persisted. "I won, fair and square."

Surely the owner had a sawed off shotgun or something along those lines. It wouldn't kill us, but it would be a bitch to get shot tonight. I tightened my hold on his shoulder, "Vinnie, it's time to go."

"You heard her, greaser. Take a walk." Biker One's friend said.

That did it. Vinnie got the look of the devil in his eyes. They went flat black as he quirked his head and his brow ever so slightly. I felt every muscle in his body tense up at once, so tense they were rigid. "What'd you say to me?"

"I said beat it, greaser." The biker got up in Vinnie's face. He was taller, bigger built. I had to admit, it frosted me something fierce too. But I didn't dare respond, not when we had appearances to keep.

"Vincent," I snapped.

He drew back and slammed his fist into the biker's face before I'd even shifted my hand. Biker One tried to respond, but Vinnie had decked him too before he even knew what was coming. I grabbed Vinnie's wrist before he could throw another hit, shouting his name. He kicked out Biker Two's knee before he could right himself and wrenched his hand away to throw another punch. A swift, near-silent hiss of a blade alerted me to Biker Two's switchblade, and before I even knew what I was doing, I took their half-empty beer and smashed it against the side of the pool table. If one of them had a weapon, I'd have one too. I held the jagged end of the bottle out slightly in front of my body expertly. It was a challenge. If he wanted to cut up Vinnie, I'd cut back. Biker One took the hint and backed off, throwing a fifty at Vinnie's chest. "It's not worth it. Mike, it's not worth it."

Biker Two-Mike-retracted the switch. I held the bottle at my side until they'd left out the back way.

"There's one way to get him out of trouble," Natasha said, breaking the stunned silence. Bram just smirked his proud _that's my girl _smirk. Vinnie smoothed out the money, checked it against the light and pocketed it.

"Hey," the bartender said over the counter. I didn't have to hear the rest. I held up my hand in a show of peaceful surrender, "It's alright, we're just leaving."

Vinnie headed out ahead of me quietly. Natasha and Bram trailed us until we stepped outside, then he passed me and gripped Vinnie's leather jacket by the collar, "You ever do something stupid like that and get my fiancee in harm's way again, I'll break your jaw, Stoker."

Vinnie smirked, "You don't give her enough credit, Devein."

I heard the click of the switch and smacked both of their arms, suddenly wishing I had the broken bottle in hand still. The bikers stepped out of the lot beside the bar, arms crossed- save for Mike.

"Maybe somebody ought to teach you kids what happens when you play a grown-up game for grown-up money," our unnamed biker friend said slowly, as if he were talking to children.

"This is why I wanted to leave town," Natasha muttered.

Bram's eyes rose defiantly. Mike took a step and I moved to help, but Bram was in front of him and slowly crushing his wrist before he saw it coming. He dropped the blade. Vinnie picked it up, admired it and closed it, pocketing it and shoving his hands into his pockets. "Maybe we ought to teach you what happens when little boys like you interfere when the grown ups are talking."

Vinnie noticed before I did. That was a first, and in the split second that I did notice, I hoped it wouldn't be the last. "Vinnie!" I gasped. He flashed in front of the unnamed biker and slammed the switch into his ribs, just before a gunshot snapped through the air.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Three

_Chapter Thirty-Three_

Vinnie pulled the blood-coated switch out of the biker's chest. Natasha rushed to him, fluttering her hands over his chest, but he glanced to her with grim seriousness; it had missed him completely. I glanced around for it, noticing a tiny hole in a parked car's door. Relief coursed through my veins. The commotion of rising people reached my ears. Bram's eyes narrowed, staring down the mortal while the other bled on the pavement. Vinnie wrapped his arm tightly around Natasha, dragging her away, "C'mon, Tash. Let's go home."

"You're not human," the one backing away from Bram muttered.

"Of course not," Bram replied calmly, reaching back to link his fingers with mine. "Humanity is such a simple-minded race. It's no surprise that the two of you belong to it."

I grasped his hand and tugged him away. A few people had gathered in the door of the bar, watching as we walked away. We cleared the gas station before breaking into a run, and I got the feeling that none of us had run faster before. Bram was working off the irritation, Vinnie was obviously angered and trying not to succumb to it. Natasha looked hurt, and I felt relief. At some point, I had become the voice of reason between us. Bram leapt, clearing the fence. I slowed and slipped inside with Natasha at my back. Vinnie scaled the fence and cleared it, leaping over and slowing his run.

Bram turned suddenly on his heel, fists at his sides, and growled, "If I was a hoodlum like you, I'd kick you senseless."

Vinnie glanced away. This had probably been the first parental influence he'd had in decades, and it wasn't sitting well. I touched Bram's arm, but he didn't relax his tense posture. "If you want to act like a child, Vinnie, go ahead and meet us in Salem. But you can't stay here where we are in hiding."

"I'm not acting like a child!" Vinnie snapped, staring at him with betrayal in his eyes. "You're acting like you're better than me! Bram, for Christ's sake! Yeah, you read more! But I get good grades too! I may not sit on my blog and bitch about the world and the past, but I'm not stupid!"

"He didn't say you were," I murmured.

Bram ran his fingers through his hair and allowed his hands to fall. If he let his anger go, his disappointment was almost as bad. Vinnie stormed past him into the house and Natasha following closely behind him. I sighed, linking my fingers through his. He led me up to the house, clicking off the outer light as we entered. The door shut with a solid click and I turned to him. Hopefully he saw the unhappiness in my eyes as I leaned on the couch, waiting for his attention.

"Don't ever tell him to leave," I murmured. "He's one of the only legitimate friends we have."

Bram sighed, shaking his head once, "He won't. He'll go sulk for a few hours, maybe not talk to me in the morning, but he'll be over it by lunch."

I didn't move as he started toward the stairs, forcing him to turn back and look at me. It was only once he stopped that I crossed the room and gently wrapped my arms around his neck, massaging the tension from the back of his neck. He nearly purred, tugging my body so close that I felt my curves squish against him. I giggled, kneading his neck slowly. "Do we have to leave yet?"

"Yes, we do," he murmured. His lips pressed lightly to mine. "I would love to marry you here, but we can always come back to do it." His head lowered into the crook of my neck, his eyes closed as I held him tightly. The gentle brush of his lips over my neck made me yawn. He chuckled, giving my body a gentle squeeze. "Do you want to turn in? We can watch some movies...catch a little extra sleep?"

I shook my head, "When do we leave?"

"Few days?" he murmured, "You're already packed, don't worry about it. So am I."

I laced my fingers into his hair and gently nudged his chin upward with my shoulder. He looked up, the lazy adoration in his eyes enough to strengthen my resolve. "I want to pack up completely. I think we should make our own home now."

He grinned. His fingers traced my spine lightly as he straightened, "Really?"

I nodded, my cheeks warming slightly. If Vinnie had heard, he might've forgotten how irritated he was at Bram. From the kitchen, my father made his presence known and shuffled out with a cup of coffee. I smiled slightly, knowing he'd heard. He smirked slightly, "I'll call up a private plane when you're ready to pack."

"Mister Fangtell-" Bram began, only to be cut off by my father as he walked up the first two steps.  
"Stefano. I didn't give birth to you and I'm not your boss."  
For a moment, I remembered how badass my father was. My fiancee broke into a smile, "Stefano. Thank you."

"For what?" It was as if he knew, letting the facade of depression slip away. It hadn't exactly been a lacking assumption that I'd tell Bram everything; he'd probably done the same with mom. I smiled sheepishly, my cheeks only continuing to build in heat with Bram's reply.

"For allowing me to marry your daughter. For supporting us, and for creating her."

Dad laughed, glancing to me, "You really know how to pick them, don't you? Promise me you'll at least pretend to listen to my advice."

"I already do," I replied teasingly. He took a sip of his still-steaming coffee and waved the both of us off, "Just don't escape in the cover of night. I have work to do tonight."

"We won't," I murmured, starting up the stairs on the opposite side. My father headed down his wing and we down ours. Bram slowly massaged my lower back, nudging open the bedroom door to welcome me into our room. As he shut the door, his smile brightened. I couldn't tell if he'd put the bar incident out of his mind completely or if he was pretending not to think about it for my sake, but the happiness was natural enough regardless. He pulled me closer, scooping me up and carrying me to bed. I squeaked, linking my arms across his shoulders. He only went as far as the bed before falling onto the soft mattress on top of me, laughing lightly. My heart was lighter. It would only be time before people figured out who was behind it. Maybe my parents would be in even deeper trouble.

Slowly, he traced his fingers over the buttons of my shirt, toying with them as if inspecting them for repair. He popped open one gently, tracing his fingers slowly over my collarbone before dipping his head to kiss my skin. Gently, he slipped free another two and caressed my skin with his lips. I ran my fingers through his hair, allowing my head to fall back against the duvet. My hair was strewn around my head like a halo of raven feathers. He crawled atop me, righting himself over my torso so his weight rested on his palms on either side of me. I caressed his shirt, freeing each button as I went.

"There's a stack of DVDs in the desk," I murmured, "The front ones we haven't watched yet."

All of his strong, ivory muscles were beyond the perfection of a Greek god. He shrugged, slipping an arm under my back and rolling onto his to right us properly on the bed. With his head on my pillow, I laid my cheek to his chest and caressed the exposed skin.

"What brought that on?" he murmured.

"What? Starting over?" I replied, shrugging slightly, "Natasha. We had a nice talk."

When he didn't reply, I looked up. He must've been wracking his brain for things we could've talked about, so I broke the silence and laid my head down once again. "She told me not to worry about my parents. Yes, they're my family, but they're adults. They can take care of themselves. They're not my responsibility. And I should go do what they've done... go create my own life. Elsewhere. With you."

He laughed softly before yawning, rolling on his side to wrap his arms around me tightly. "I like that idea. But my mother might be a little... You know my mother, I don't even have to find the right word for her."

Of course. I'd hardly paid Maggie thought lately. She'd be thrilled. Vinnie would be thrilled. Just the thought of unpacking, though, was enough to activate the sense of leisure that felt programmed into my system and left the both of us laying there, snuggled into each other, without much care to move any time soon.

...

I woke up in the middle of the night to the violent sound of the window closing. The bed had recently been disturbed, and I crawled up to my knees and felt across the headboard for the window. Lifting a corner of the curtain, I peeked out. Everything was a blur without my glasses, but I could vaguely make out the light figure that I assumed to be Bram below, across from a darker figure. Curiosity got the better of me; I scrambled back across the bed and put my glasses on. He must've removed them when I'd fallen asleep.  
Of course it wasn't any of my business, but I wanted to know. I glanced out the window, shocked to find the person he was conversing so freely with wasn't Valentine. I blinked, staring at Jonas on the back lawn. It didn't seem as if they were exchanging words of any kind, but I still felt the compulsive push to leave the window. I sunk back onto the bed, my lower lip jutting slightly on instinct. My limbs were still heavy with lethargy, and I was ready to go back to sleep and dismiss this as a strange dream. Instinct told me, though, that I wasn't going to do anything of the sort.

By the time Bram returned, I had shifted back to laying down with my glasses off and given up on waiting up, but still wasn't asleep. If I could read the clock, I might've known how long it had taken. It felt like a lifetime.  
He crawled into bed beside me, wrapping his arms lovingly around my waist.

"What was that about?" I murmured. Even my voice seemed heavy with sleep.

I felt him smiling against my hair, "Just the promise that everything's alright with your family now. Of course, your mother can't exactly come out of hiding to the public, but she may be able to with your family soon."

"And Val?" I murmured.

"Still clueless," he murmured with a soft chuckle. His warm breath stirred my hair. I could've gone straight to sleep, but curiosity kept me teetering on the edge of consciousness for a while. "How?"

"How what, love?" he murmured. How long had I waited to ask that?

"How did Jonas fix this?" I murmured, "It wasn't exactly something that could be fixed overnight."

"How does Jonas fix anything?" he murmured, "In a very violent manner perfect for the occasion."

I nodded against his arm. He kissed the back of my head, nuzzling a bit closer. It felt lovely. I felt lovely, nestled against him the way I was. I almost asked why he'd been so happy, but exhaustion had muted my voice. "Why were you awake anyway?" he murmured into my hair, "You never wake up when I do in the morning."

"Window," I muttered. When I blinked, I blinked heavily. Sleep was just returning when the soft rattling of metal on metal in the distance reached my ears and I sighed, "Shit."

"What?" he murmured, allowing me to roll onto my stomach and slowly push myself up.

"I think we have visitors."


	34. Chapter Thirty-Four

_Chapter Thirty-Four_

His heart was beating out of his chest as he walked up the dark, silent pathway to the pitch dark house. The entire entryway looked as foreboding as an abandoned palace with none of the decay. Surely there was someone there; from the absence of rainwater on the garage doors, they'd obviously been opened recently. The shadows seemed to move the closer he got, and he finally made a desperate sprint up to the door, throwing himself against it and glancing around the perimeter of the yard behind him. He couldn't hear the voices of the fifteen or so men that had been following him anymore. When the door gave under his back, he let out a sharp, childish scream.

I winced, the sound a bit too sharp for my tired eardrums, "Who are you and what the hell do you want at this hour?"

It took me a moment to process, but there he was. The kid from before. _Christ._ He looked absolutely petrified, but the look in his eyes was classic of a boy bewitched by the supernatural. A corner of my heart wept for his feeble mind. Prey fell victim to our charms easily, and if the boy was honestly this stupid, it had been only sentiment keeping him alive before. I lowered myself as if I were speaking to a much smaller child, "Answer before I shut the door."

"I'm looking for vampires," he said.

I didn't have to be human to be disgusted. "Well, good luck with that. But take it off my lawn." I shut the door and latched it once again, turning and expecting only Bram. Instead, Vinnie had joined us and was close enough to me to scare me. He laughed when I jumped, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, "You really shouldn't put people in a glamour like that."

"I can't help it, it was coming on before I had the chance to stop it," I muttered, lowering my glasses to massage my aching eyes. My body felt so heavy that I couldn't have possibly found a perch to roost in without falling off of it. I ascended the stairs, joining up with Bram at about halfway and wrapping my arms around his torso. He practically helped drag me up the stairs in silence, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

The gate was shaking. I paused in mid-step and listened to the sound of the gate shaking and people- people trying to pick the complex lock. There were shoes sliding up the wrought iron bars, people trying to force their limbs through. I glanced to Bram as Natasha appeared at the stairs, "Vinnie?"

"Go back to bed, doll." In his white undershirt and unbelted jeans, I had the feeling he was going to attempt to go Wolverine on the approaching mortals. I tightened my hold on Bram, silently warning him that he was in no way going to do any such thing.

She went right past us, her turbulent curls falling over the brocaded shoulders of her nightgown. Vinnie's shirt was around her for added warmth, something he seemed to take into serious consideration upon meeting her gaze. She nudged his chin up slightly and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, stuffing a handkerchief in his front pocket. God, they were worse than a romance novel.

"Go get your father," Bram murmured.

Sabby appeared at the top of the stairs, head quirked and mewing quietly in self-pride. My father came trailing after her, though. Either he'd heard, or Sabbath had beaten my fiancee to the thought. I scooped her up as he passed us all. Bram followed, if for no other reason than being honor-bound to my family. I scowled, returning to the edge of the stairs and placing my cat securely in Natasha's arms. She looked at me with sudden, grim seriousness.

"Put her in the hearse and meet us outside," I said quietly. My family had never dealt with a mob before, but we knew people who had. We knew that typically, they burned down homes and left people with nothing but shattered lives and the clothes on their backs- and I was not about to lose my cat in a fire. Clothes I could replace. Journals I could salvage. Sabbath, I could not risk.  
Natasha wordlessly took my keys off the end table and headed out to the garage while I dashed back upstairs. Vinnie's door was ajar, the floor messy but his jacket at the end of the bed like a beloved pet. I pulled the switchblade out of his pocket, positioning the opening blade between my fingers. It was the first clear, moonlit night I'd seen in weeks. The metal in my palm glistened. I knew the sight of a blade stained with blood, and a part of me began to hunger for it. A strange sense of calm centered in my chest and guided me slowly down the path I'd come to join the boys outside. If we still had things to pack, we were leaving in the morning. That was decided for us.

My father, flanked by my fiancee and best friend, waited at the crest of the swell he called a hill. I joined them, taking my rightful place at Bram's side. He didn't glance at my hand, he knew I had the weapon. He simply laced his fingers through my free ones and gave a firm squeeze; we didn't hunt because we knew we would fear for each others' safety. Tonight, and every night of the same, we would cover each other because that was what we did. I didn't notice when Natasha had appeared beside Vinnie, but she murmured, "I've got your six, Stoker."

They had climbed the fence and spotted us, and they started toward us. I couldn't imagine what weapons they had. Mortals were always more dangerous than lycans; lycans were proud and stupid, they'd use their own arsenal. Mortals used whatever they could carry.

"What did I tell you about keeping a low profile?"

My head rose. My mother walked up behind my father, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing his chest gently. Her chin rested on his shoulder, a tiny, bemused smile on her lips. Valentine followed her, confused but slowly awakening, and Jonas slouched at his side with a lovely, psychotic grin. He nodded to me with a silent promise of support.

"Long live the king," he commented toward us. I didn't know if he was being sarcastic or not, but it was a glorious thought. My father kissed my mother's cheek with a soft chuckle, "Anyone want to head back to bed?"

Valentine twitched, but didn't speak. Even if he did, he wouldn't voice it.

"Wait!"

I recognized that shout and sighed such a violent sigh that my chest rose and deflated visibly. The persistent kid dashed out in front of them, not ten feet away from us, and held out his hands in front of them. "Wait! They're just different, they're not hurting anyone!"

Bram and I glanced at Vinnie at the same time with the same visible threat of bodily harm if he didn't keep his mouth shut. Jonas fanned out beside me, leaving Valentine to flank Natasha. We looked like a tiny, ill-prepared militia, but I had a feeling it was the show of numbers that contributed to the slowing of the little mob instead. Fifteen of them, eight of us, it seemed like a fair enough draw.

"I like these odds," Jonas murmured as if he'd been reading my mind.

I smirked slightly, "You liked the odds when they weren't in our favor."

He didn't miss a beat. Either he'd completely lost his mind or he was a very good actor. He just smiled, waiting for someone to make a move. Anyone. No one moved but the boy, who glanced between us and them like a puppy caught between masters.

"Johnny," somebody yelled, "come down here!"

"No!" he shouted, backing up, "Not until you leave them alone!"

Oh for Christ's sake. The last thing any of us needed was a thirteen year old hero, if he was even that. I rolled my eyes, completely unsurprised when the action boggled my brain into a slightly dizzy-with-exhaustion haze. He ended up backing up completely, bumping into my mother's hip. She caught him before he could jump, squeezing his shoulder gently and rubbing it softly. Despite the coldness of our skin, he didn't seem phased. They were staring at us, taking in everything at once.

"We're one fucked up little family," Valentine commented. I guess I should've been shocked, but of course she'd caved and told him everything. He was as much her son as I was her daughter. Blood didn't bind family, love did. There was a reason why Jonas, Vinnie and Natasha were here and not Tiffany and Walter. My parents looked at each other with slight, silent promise. Vinnie glanced back at us. I quirked my shoulder, letting him know I'd tell him later.

A few of the humans at the bottom of the hill turned back. My father dug out his keys and aimed them at the gate, unlocking it. The humans tensed, unsure of the object, but when they heard the gate squeaking they all looked at once. "Thank you, sweetheart," my mother murmured into the boy's ear.

He glanced up, smiling slightly up to her. They trickled away one by one and in small chunks, but someone waited for him. He stepped away from my mother, glancing back at her with an open smile, "Not all people are bad, you know. Confused maybe, but not bad."

My parents grinned; it was the same look I remembered from the epiphanies of my childhood. They had known for centuries, but that look of pride and understanding was almost as if they had wanted others to figure things out on their own, and their lack of help had contributed. He ran down the hill, back to his guardian, and Jonas yawned dramatically. "If no one minds, I'm crashing here. We can fry up someone's kid for breakfast in the morning."

I rolled my eyes, letting him know I was definitely not eating anything he wanted to make in the morning. Vinnie and Natasha wandered up inside, Valentine and my parents following suit. Remembering suddenly, I grasped my father's keys and automatically locked the gate before running into the garage and releasing Sabbath from the hearse. She purred, leaping into my arms excitedly and brushing her rough tongue against my chin.

"You had it all set up to fight back, didn't you?" Bram murmured, closing the door to the garage behind himself and locking it quietly. I ran my thumb over the switchblade in my palm and dropped it into the cup holder, gently nudging the door shut with my hip. My eyes fell on him, a tiny smile crossing my face. "A very amazing man once told me all about kings and conquest. You don't expect to be one without winning a little war, do you?"

He smirked in reply, clicking off the light as we wandered back indoors to the strange family we had formed.


	35. Chapter Thirty-Five

_Chapter Thirty-Five_

After a little more sleep, we did end up spending most of the day packing. Something was different as we did, though. Vinnie and Natasha made room in their car for Jonas, who had decided to come with us after a discussion over an extensive breakfast. Valentine was apparently going to move in down the hall from my old room, and my parents were more than happy to pack up whatever furnature I wanted to take with me in a moving truck and send it along, but therein lied the problem. My clothes and my things, which had to have extra transportation of their own, I'd picked out myself. A lot of my furnature had been hand-me-downs from them and had been seen differently for most of my life. By evening, we had reached the conclusion that Valentine was allowed to have my old room and the furnishings in it while I simply took everything resembling femininity with me. Jonas would drive the truck, freeing up our cars a bit, and Sabbath was coming in the hearse with us.

As I came down the stairs, buttoning my jacket around Sabbath's fluffy body, I took notice of my father and Valentine getting ready to embark to the other house. Taking the last two steps at a time, I pulled my brother into a hug that he hadn't been expecting. He froze momentarily, almost as if he was anticipating a threat to come of it. When I simply squeezed him and let go, he returned the favor with care in regards to the cat tucked against my torso. I moved to my father, grinning openly. "See? It's like I'm not leaving at all, you have the boy version of me."

Valentine rolled his eyes, "I hope I'm nothing like you."

I could hear my mother laughing before she exited the hallway from the kitchen, her arms outstretched. I was passed from his hug into hers, grateful to bury myself into the warm, elegant perfume at her neck. We were a family again; greater in number, but restored. She kissed the top of my head and murmured, "The moment you are ready, we are coming out to Oregon with Maggie and telling her everything."

My father laughed, seemingly remembering the excitable Lady Devein for the first time. I smiled, withdrawing slightly, "Of course."

Bram headed down the stairs, zipping his jacket and turning down the corners of his collar, "Are you ready, darling?"

I withdrew from my mother, boosting Sabbath slightly. "If you are." How many years had we embarked on this silent compromise now? Standing at the top of that hill had given me new perspective. Others like us formed houses for reasons like this, and I was giving my parents the opportunity to do just that with the others in our area. No longer would they have to worry about me when they knew I had my own. I wouldn't worry about them either with Valentine to carry on in my place. He smiled to them both, nodding slightly. My father nodded in reply, wrapping his arm around my mother with a tinge of comfort.  
I don't think my parents ever expected the day I was really going to leave them. That was the beauty of immortality, you thought you had forever for everything. The reality I had come to know too well was the reality they hoped I would never have to know; not even immortals were truly immortal. I couldn't be a child forever. I would be their child forever, but I couldn't rely on them when they relied on me as well. My fingers laced through Bram's and I glanced back to Valentine, "Take care of them."

"I will," he replied, for once letting the accent slip. I knew he was too European to be all Southern. I smirked, a silent vow to keep the secret of the real Valentine that lingered under the surface safe with me before Bram led me toward the garage. The doors were open, Natasha seated inside the car already with one of her books in her grasp while Vinnie finished his cigarette against the side. Jonas was half-out of the truck's cabin, probably getting in the last extension of his legs for a while.

"Ready already?" Vinnie asked, taking his last drag and putting out the smoldering end with his shoe.

I smiled with pride, "Are you?"

"I hope you had a big enough place in mind," Natasha said without looking up. I glanced to Bram. He beamed, "Let's get there first." Consulting his phone, his happiness dampened, "Thirty two hours in current traffic."

Even with our spirits raised, I could tell this wasn't the best idea any of us had come up with.

"Can we go camping at Yellowstone?" Jonas called, seemingly the first normal request he'd made in the entire time I knew him. Bram glanced at me and I shrugged, "The carrier is in the back. As long as we don't let her eat any bears, I can't see why not."  
I wasn't afraid of the bears or the wolves trying to eat Sabbath, I was afraid of her trying to eat them. Anyone who knew her long enough knew that she'd at least try.

We climbed into our respective seats and allowed Jonas to back up before Vinnie pulled out and waited for us off to the side. Bram buckled in and started up, glancing to me, "I want to thank you for this."

I shook my head, containing the warmth in my cheeks, "I love you. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you."

He backed up, pulling down the drive and heading toward the expressway. It was only after the three of us had formed a merging pack among the other travelers that he continued conversation, "Just keep an open mind for surprises, will you?"

It was the single most off-putting thing he could've possibly said, yet I shrugged and agreed.

...

Sabbath was made at home in her carrier and we had bedded down in a secluded part of the camping grounds, away from the temptation of mortals enjoying nature. Vinnie and Natasha were asleep in their car, curled up in the back seat. Jonas's socks were the only visible part of him while he lounged in the truck, possibly asleep. We weren't checking. The stars were twinkling overhead, so lovely that I might've wished we could see the Northern Lights with them, even though we had once back in Maine.  
We sat on the hood of the hearse, a small container of fruit between us. The expansive forests surrounded us, broken only by the path down to Old Faithful and the other natural wonders. Every constellation above glistened brighter here, untainted by the city and the beings around. It was suddenly worth the risk of bugs and germs to be in an environment like this.

"It's pure," I murmured, my gaze focused on Orion's companion as I made out the doglike features in the stars.

He glanced at me, "You never stop philosophizing, do you?"

I shrugged, "I'm old. I'm an old soul. It's the downfall of education."

He lifted my left hand and laced it through his. Gazing upon me the way I did the sky, he spoke in an even softer tone. "I could go on in agreeing with you, but you're right. It is pure here, too pure to be tainted with our hatred of the ignorant."

It was too pure to be tainted by us in any way. I glanced to him, finding the stars in his eyes. "I could live out here. Hidden away, where no one could tell me what to do and where to go and whom to obey."

"You never listen anyway," he teased, brushing my hair away from my neck. The grazing of his fingers against my skin warmed my heart. We should've gone to Europe. We could've restored Elizabeth Bathory's castle and hidden away in the forest, or taken to the moors of Ireland among the elves and the sprites.

"Is it true what they say about Ireland?" I murmured, "Is it really so full of fae?"

He shrugged, "I wouldn't know, most of my nights in Ireland were spent either in home or hunting in the city. I've never been much of a woodsman."  
I vaguely recalled his father boasting once that the Devein clan was the best hunter in all of the medieval kingdom and had continued to be that way, but they were the hunter of man. No beast was so unworthy of respect to be hunted when they had no disposition for jealousy, cruelty or blood sport. It was a strange equilibrium between our kind and theirs, I supposed. Even the neophytes of our kind that chose to live with semi-mortal ways had a slight knowledge of what our true purpose was. Maybe that was why we had such close bonds with our familiars.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," he murmured, plucking a grape from the bowl at our side and spearing it with a fang. I smiled to myself, glancing skyward at the nearly full moon. The bubbling howls of a wolf pack should've instilled a measure of fear in me. I should've been prone to flashbacks of the battle, but I wasn't. I knew a lycanthrope from a wolf, and the sound only helped drag the deep sense of calm into settling into my chest. "Was Sabbath your familiar?"

"No," I murmured, "Just my companion. I've never had a familiar. I've never had much besides my family." By the time I was born, monster-human relations had been going down the drain. I didn't identify with human children, therefore I didn't have many friends. I didn't seek many. Our community was significantly superior and I understood that, even when I hadn't understood it entirely. It was a part of us, programmed into us instinctually. It was only natural that I sought others like myself.  
Royalty. Underdogs. The outcasts. The oppressed. Bram. Vinnie. Jonas. Natasha. Tiffany, the insecure. Ruth, the humane. Charles, the misunderstood.

"They call us monsters, yet they have no idea that if they had their way, they wouldn't have anything."

"Visionaries are almost always misunderstood, my love. Look at Tesla." He kissed my hand softly. I tore my eyes from the sky to meet his once again, blushing as he smiled. "I love to watch you think. You're so lovely in your intensity. I can see the passion you have for understanding."

"Knowledge is power," I murmured.

"With great power, comes great responsibility," he replied.

"Responsibility begets understanding, and understanding, wisdom."

He sighed, taking my face between his hands. "Gory Fangtell, I don't think you understand how precious you are to me."

I did. I was as precious to him as he was to me. He made me want to be a better vampire, and not in the way of perfect, refined aristocracy. He made me want to do nothing more than obliterate the ignorance and blind faith and push people toward enlightenment, even if it came with damnation.

"Where else would you find such soulful eyes and scintillating wit?" I teased. He chuckled, his lips pressed together in a repressed smile. His eyes were glowing with utter adoration and love, and I hoped mine reflected the same. He pressed his lips to mine, silencing me successfully.

"Sometimes, I absolutely hate you. There is no reason to make yourself any less of a goddess to me or anyone else."

"You're the only one who sees me as a goddess," I murmured against his mouth, kissing him again softly. "I'm just a queen."

He withdrew slightly to press his hand over my heart, "A queen means nothing to a god. You are a god. You have an influence that surpasses men." I had a feeling he wanted to say that I charmed everything around me, but the light sound of other heartbeats seemed to confirm it better than he'd expected. He silenced himself and tore his eyes from me to meet the faintly glimmering ones at the edge of the trees.

My curiosity had long been sated. As I rose onto my hands and slipped off the hood of the hearse, the actions I took were slowly for the purpose of confirming or denying his words. He sat up only slightly, watching me as I crossed the grassy crescent of land toward them and lowered myself to my knees at a safely welcoming distance. They had quieted, watching me with wariness. I opened my arms and showed them my open palms, promising that I was no threat. Animals could sense danger. They knew a predator when they saw one, and they seemed to sense quickly that even if I was, I was no danger to them. The alpha came forward, slowly and calmly, standing before me with mere inches between us. Lowering one hand, I softly scratched behind her ears. Calmly, she took a few more steps toward me and sat, allowing my touch. I lowered fully to the ground beside her, welcoming her head onto my knee. She accepted my scratching and petting, docile against my side. Her packmates slowly emerged, taking up a protective circle around the both of us. By the time they had settled in, I had three wolves laying on me and a half dozen close enough to feel the heat of their bodies.

Nearly silently, Bram snapped a picture with his phone. I held them each in turn before the dawn rose, eventually being joined by him in the grass. We fed them some of our food and accepted the grateful licks and nuzzles that the generosity earned. They left when the sky began to lighten, as did we. For the first time in the entire trip, we split up cars to allow Vinnie to drive his impala and Natasha to drive the hearse while the both of us caught up on a sleep disrupted by animals with more civility than mortal-kind.


	36. Chapter Thirty-Six

_Chapter Thirty-Six_

I had always dreamed of traveling from the wilds of Canada to the coasts of Brazil. Crossing the channel from the rainy prairies of the United Kingdom into mainland Europe, and making working my way through to the Asian temples and the crowded markets of Marrakech, maybe ending the journey down in the African plains. After going cross-country, I'd seen plenty of the mainland America and it made my wanderlust a bit stronger.  
It was evening of the next night when we'd eventually righted ourselves during a break and continued on the last leg of the trip to Salem. Surely Ruth and the others would be surprised to see us tomorrow.

A traditional wooden sign, painted in bright and lively colors welcomed us into city limits, and I was instantly enthralled by the mixture of old and new. The shops had survived the past century, I could tell. The street lamps were circa nineteen hundred, and they had a wide park near the river with an antiquated merry-go-round. The residences were expressive to the personalities of their occupants, so I knew exactly which ones our friends resided in. They were as orderly, and yet somehow alive, as the dorms. It seemed as if they were split between two houses, and it seemed as if Jonas was eager to rejoin them. Bram continued on, though, onto a small and unpaved road that gave ancient tales of its own. I glanced to him with open interest and eagerness; he simply smiled and kept his eyes straight ahead on the road until the dense, protective trees broke.

If the clearing wasn't enchanting enough, the house in the center of it was like my own personal palace. The mixture of Collinwood and the castles of Europe had been noted meticulously in its design and construction. It was aged, firm and sturdy. I glanced to him, "How did you find this place?"

"I didn't," he replied, beaming openly. "The path was here, but there was no house. They knocked it down a long time ago, and it was quite a bit smaller. I contacted some people to clean up the path and, as you said, build your house."

I stared in wonder at the building no less than a mansion and no short of a palace. It was a grand estate, to say the very least, built with the firm sturdiness and resolve of a place much its elder. I was absent of breath, marveling as he stopped on the lawn and watched my face. In the dim glow of a barely remaining sun, I was sure this house was as immortal as we were. I'd expected a fairytale cottage, maybe. A too-large, too-grand manor, surely. But this house was perfect. It wasn't too large, but it certainly wasn't of typical size; perhaps it was the size of my old home. The land around it was extensive, and I was sure we owned at least ten acres in any direction.  
The mansion itself was a glory. The roof was shingled in slate gray while the outer stone, I imagined it might've been marble, was black. The windows were all shaded with luxurious drapery, a pair of thin columns near the entryway's three, wide steps were wrapped in vines. I tore my eyes away from the building to stare at my fiancee in open amazement. He flushed slightly, "Say something, at least."

I threw my arms around him and squeezed him, grateful that the car was parked or else we might've skidded to a halt. He laughed, wrapping his arms around me in turn and kissing my lips very gently, "You like it?"

"I adore it!" I exclaimed, withdrawing to open the door and step out onto our finely manicured lawn. There was probably a good acre or two around the back to the forest, I assumed. Walking slowly toward the house, I glanced over my shoulder to our friends still contained in their cars, staring openly at the looming manor ahead. Bram caught up to me, taking my hand to guide me up the steps. A pair of stone planters contained flowers so rich they were spilling over the sides, day-bloomers and night-bloomers mixed together to create a sea of color. It felt beyond comprehension. He turned a delicate brass key in the door and scooped me up, grinning at my surprised yelp. "We may not be married yet, but I am carrying you over this threshold."

He was going to kill me with happiness.

He pushed open the door and carried me inside. I could've cried. The floors were hardwood, but there were nestled corners of the room where couches lined the walls, outfitted by chairs and paisley Persian rugs. One side had a fireplace made of flagstone and a mantle made of red marble. A spiraling staircase looped around the opposite side and up to the floor, coated in rich burgundy carpet with a railing of aged gold. The walls were such lovingly painted cream, decorated with bits of silver and gold accenting where it could be fit in. A chandelier rose above the balcony hall, crystals glittering like diamonds. I wanted to run through the halls and take it all in at once, but I forced myself to contain my enthusiasm to the first floor to begin with. Bram smiled, following me with approval of his own in his eyes. A drawing room off to the side was paneled in empty book cases, waiting to be converted into the most lived-in area of our home and outside the doors, down a pair of identical steps, was the yard.

The yard was glorious. There was a patio off the kitchen that spread like paint across to the end of the steps and ended in a thin, wrought iron railing and a small gate. A gravel path led to a square-based fountain. There were more planters on the patio, waiting to be decorated. The entire yard was waiting to be harnessed. Ideas swirled through my mind, ways to make our house a modern Gatsby mansion. I turned to him with open delight.

"I love it," I breathed, unable to say any more. I didn't know how impressed I would be with the kitchen at the time, or with the bedrooms and the bathrooms and the balcony to ours. I didn't know I could fall so in love with him all over again, simply because he knew what I wanted. He was likely the only person who had ever cared, who had ever listened this much. He had built me my dream house, and I stood on the patio like a modern-day Daisy Buchanan, taken completely aback by everything he was willing to give me and more.

"I'm glad," he replied with a grin. He walked out onto the dimly lit stone, wrapping his arms around my back tightly and comfortingly. It was such a sight, so much to take in at once that I was sure I would never be used to it. "I move the stars for no one," he quoted, smirking slightly at my awe, "they already move for you by their own will."

"Stop," I laughed breathlessly, my hand fluttering up to my heart that seemed to be beating at a normal pace, "I'm going to die of happiness before the night is over, I promise you."

He shook his head with a small smile, "No, you won't. This is only the beginning."

I silenced him with a kiss that he returned firmly and passionately. It was as if he was trying to pour all of his love into something physical and visible, but I knew that it surpassed this house and this kiss infinitely so. I loved him so much, I would've been happy in another school dorm. Suddenly, I remembered the desk in the drawing room and broke the kiss to stare at him in awe again. My hands pressed firmly to his chest to pause him momentarily, "This is from Ireland. Bram, this is from _your castle._"

He shrugged, "Mum wanted to renovate and Dad didn't want to stick it all in storage. So they took me around on camera and I picked out what I knew you'd want, I sent Sean my design, he got his crew going..." He began to rub my biceps as if it would soothe me. "It was a family effort."

My family had only fed him and allowed him to stay in our house, they'd only sent him some gifts at Christmas and approved of our relationship, they'd never given us family heirlooms and contributed to the building of a house! I'd severely underestimated them yet again!

"The little twerp might've had all his things moved in too," came a familiar, strongly Irish accented tone, "But judgin' by the movin' van, so were you about to be."

"Goddamn it Sean," Bram said with volume. It wasn't as if I couldn't be more grateful to him. He was the reason this had happened, even if his brother had worked quite a bit upon it himself. Sean walked down the steps and pulled me away from my fiancee, crushing me in a steel-muscled hug. "So you're gonna be part of the family now? Can't say I'm surprised."

"Sean, let go of her," Bram said with the same level of exasperation akin to having reprimanded a child for an entire day.

"Go answer the phone," he shot back, squeezing me once more before alleviating his hold.

"It's not ringing."

"Too bad, I called it."

Bram openly rolled his eyes, voicing for both of us that it was the worst pun we'd ever heard. Vinnie's impressed whistle reached my ears before Natasha declared with enthusiasm, "This place is _huge!_"

"That the movin' crew?" he teased.

"They're our friends," Bram muttered, his mood darkening significantly toward his brother. I could hardly see why; Sean was mild-mannered for some of the men in the Devein family. He was a bit more crass and down-to-Earth than them, but he was charming and polite toward females and good looking in a very combat-ready way. He could've been worse. As he headed inside, I slid my arms around Bram's torso and kissed him enthusiastically. "It's alright," I murmured, "It's physically impossible to get you two confused."

He sighed, "I know. I'm just worried he'll scare you off before I get the other ring on your finger too."

I laughed, "It's physically impossible."

Though from the shouts of surprise, I assumed he'd snuck up on Vinnie, Jonas and Natasha and it was getting very obvious that I was not the one he was interested in scaring.


	37. Chapter Thirty-Seven

_Chapter Thirty-Seven_

We unpacked things into the necessary rooms, but took our time caring about unpacking them. Sean had decked out most of the house already, and from the bags under his eyes, I wondered how long he'd been commissioned on this place and how many nights he'd spent awake working on the interior long after people had left.

He caught me staring while I stirred pasta and grinned, leaning on his elbows on the disconnected bar of countertop, "It took three hundred and fifty men the entire duration of your trip since the night of the war to build the place, outside and in."

I smiled, glancing to the floor, "Thank you. I genuinely mean that." A small army of people had taken each stone and set it by hand. They'd done everything likely without machinery, and they'd done it in...had it even been a month now? It felt like a happy lifetime since then.

He shrugged, running his fingers over the dark granite counter, "Y' like it? Bram drew the entire thing out when you came to see us. Gettin' this up an' running wasn't the hard part, it was the details. He would'a never been happy if we used Oak instead of Cherry or whatever."

I took out one of the brand-new mugs and poured it halfway with blood and the rest of the way with coffee. He smiled as I set it and a spoon before him, stirring it lazily, "He's got you trained."

I smirked, "I think it might be mutual."

The Devein family was nothing if not traditionalists. Everything had been taken care of for us, probably courtesy of Maggie. It felt strangely welcome, like stepping into royalty. He watched me while I drained the pot, poured it into a bowl and mixed it with tomato and a mixture of spices. Sean wasn't like Jonas or Vinnie, he made sure his presence was noticed at all times. There was something imposing about a six foot man made of solid muscle; add fangs and a slightly sociopathic smile, and there he was. The borderline insanity in his eyes wasn't even muted like his brother's, it was open and frustrated.

"How's hunting?" I asked.

"Horrid. They're all monsters, and the other half of town is fuckin' terrified of 'em. They don't like huntin'. Doesn't mean I haven't once or twice." He took a sip, yawning anyway. My self-preservation instincts were relieved when Bram picked that moment to wander in, his footsteps silent without shoes.

"At least you listen to my directions." He smiled as he wandered to my side, kissing my neck and wrapping his arms tightly around my torso. I rested my hand on top of his, linking our fingers as they should be. Stealing a glance down at part of dinner, he murmured into my ear, "It smells lovely."

"Thank you," I replied, squeezing his hand. We remained interlocked for a moment before he broke away and leaned on the counter, giving me the space to work while waiting. I expected him to chat with his brother, but it seemed both of their eyes were lingering a bit obviously on impending food. As soon as it was mixed, I set it between them, "Save a little for the other three, will you?"

"You're gonna need to learn to cook like Mum then, Devein men never share their food."

Bram pulled the bowl away from his brother, "Of course not. Which is why in my house, you're going to wait for me to give you a plate."

"Ah fuck ye," Sean replied, "I could'a gone downtown for all the trouble you're worth."

"Boys." My tone was hardly chiding, but Bram still kept the food away from his brother. I glanced over my shoulder, "Get some plates and let him eat."

"It's my house, it's my food. He has money, he should've gone to get his own."

"Actually, it's my house and my food," I reminded him. With a light nudge, I shut the oven and set the platter of smoldering chicken on the stovetop. Crossing the room to them, I removed the bowl from my fiancee's grip and glanced between them, "I'm living here, and I'm cooking. And both of you are going to deal with me. Understood?"

Sean smirked to his brother, "I really like her, Bram."

"Tell me you have a hotel room," he replied, completely unfazed when I set it at the opposite side of the counter from them both. I hardly understood how Maggie was always so happy, having the brothers in the same room gave me the illusion of babysitting. By the time I'd made plates, they'd made so many passes at the pasta that I was hardly hungry myself. Sean was persistent and never knew when to quit; Bram tried to be the good one, but his persistent opposition to his brother was enough to exasperate the life out of a lesser being. When the others gathered to eat, I quietly excused myself and went to explore the rest of the house more personally.

Everything was new and beautiful, yet somehow well-loved and antiquated. I wandered down the darkly carpeted halls, glancing out of windows topped in stained glass and covered with drapery. There was a little bench at every few of them, and upon my further investigation, it was the perfect place for hiding precious things and took work to lift. I explored each room in turn, reveling in their diversity and luxury. One room was mostly royal purple, another royal blue, another cream and ivory, and yet another the color of precious metals. Of course, the master bedroom was the most glorious of them all, a lovely mixture of all of the hues of royalty and its gemstone accenting. I saved the room next to our room for last. I wasn't sure what I expected- a study maybe, perhaps a small library or a secret passage into another wing. Instead, I opened the door and was immediately taken off-guard.

The walls were pastel and a circular frame held a canopy from the ceiling, draping lovingly over the room's centerpiece. A mirror-topped dresser stood several layers high, topped with gilded and beautiful little things. All of the drawers were already packed as well, and it didn't feel real. I opened the other, finding a myriad of necessities and even more in the tiny closet. All of it had been set up and put together, and china dolls rested on small shelves on either wall, plush toys sitting atop a hand-painted trunk and gossamer curtains over the heavy, sun-blocking ones with another dual seat at the window. But the little mobile of bats and the sweet, spring-pastel bedding sealed the suspicion. I could've stormed downstairs and hit Sean senseless. Instead, I lifted a penguin off the trunk that was so over-stuffed it was circular, and sunk down on the window seat. Even that was different here. Where everything else was dark and rich, it was yellow and white checkerboard. No sun had probably ever reached this room, but it was the sunshine of the entire house. It was so bright and so pure that it felt tainted by my very presence. There wasn't much dark color here at all. I would've never considered that. I hadn't been young in so long, I hardly remembered what it was like to experience innocence this way.

"Gory?"

I looked up and my cheeks were wet. I hadn't even remembered crying. He was staring in shock at the room around me much the same way as I had, and I could tell from the slowly rising fury in his eyes that he hadn't planned this and he was just as appalled at Sean's assumption as I had been at first instinct.

"I love it," I breathed.

He looked at me like I was insane. Vampires turned away the sunlight, it was what we did. We didn't embrace the happiness of pure things, or happiness at all. There was no pastel green or soft yellow, there was emerald and gold. No powder pink or sky blue, but ruby and sapphire. All intense, all dark, full of the weight that we carried ourselves with over time. Our eyes met, softening his. He glanced around once again, seeming to catch the room in the same baffled light as I had settled into. "It was still horribly rude of him," he muttered, crossing the room to sit at my side. The only dark thing about this room was the antique crib and our clothes against the surfaces. Of course, we'd probably want to change some things...but it was perfect. The carpet was pastel green, almost shag. Was this what common carpet looked like? I didn't know, I hadn't seen it in years.

He reached up and brushed the moisture off my cheeks, opening his arms so I could sink to the floor with him. I shook my head, tucking my face into his shoulder, "The more I sit here, the less it seems to scare me."

"It scares you?" he murmured with surprise, "Why would it scare you?"

I couldn't even begin to voice my reasoning. There was a thing that happened when someone got close to the end of high school, a sudden, stark panic that this was it. This was the end of childhood. All of a sudden, everything fell on you. You were the adult. Then college brought a new one, the panic of the real world. Being in Belfry Prep, I'd had all the time in the world to experience these panics and they'd never come. I may not have had a degree, but I'd been through college-level courses and higher. Here, there was a day impending when we would eventually leave. We would continue on to higher learning- honestly, could we even contain ourselves at this school very long? Then there it would be. In the same stasis of our families, trying desperately to have some kind of purpose in the world again. There lied the problem; that usually led to things like this. Things like this meant being responsible for something you couldn't control. Yes, you provided everything, yes you tried your hardest but really you had no control. I answered to no authority and neither did Bram, and the thought of something created from us both was both worthy of adoration and worthy of a different kind of panic of its own.

He seemed to consider the same in my silence and squeezed my shoulders gently, "Sean is just Sean. He thinks like a mortal, no matter how long he's been alive."

I shook my head, gritting my teeth to keep myself from fully crying. This was irrational.  
Everything in our lives was irrational. Rational people didn't believe in the undead. Rational people didn't live forever or admit to having had tea with Lord Byron two hundred plus years ago. Rational people had never tried to overthrow a government or succeeded at it. We were vampires- there wasn't any rational in anything.

I had to get up. I abandoned the circular penguin in the crib and went into our room, opening the first box I saw and starting to unpack. I heard the quiet placement of the door in the frame and the ghost of air as ours shut behind Bram. He caught my hands and prevented me from moving, "Gory, say something to me. Are you angry? Are you hurt?"

I dropped the red satin dress back in the box and turned to him, raising my arms and taking in a shaky breath that felt as if it couldn't be released. My heart was in logical turbulence. My heart had not been ready to experience the emotion that room had unleashed in me.  
I floundered for an expression for a moment before I finally found words, but they weren't the ones I wanted. They burst out anyway, as if I could no longer contain anything. My insides had been shaken like a cola bottle full of Mentos. "I'm _sad_," I hissed through my teeth. It sounded so strange coming from me. Mere weeks ago, I'd been _sad_ over losing my mother, over wanting the pain to end or at least change into something useful. Everything had been so shallow and so perfectly petty a few weeks ago, yet it had triggered a deeper depression than this. I wondered if Tiffany still had that hollow, suicidal look in her eyes. I'd done a lot more growing up in the past few weeks than I'd intended to, and more than enough of it was all my parents fault for swearing us to secrecy on something we should've never had to get involved in.

I sunk onto the bed and tossed my glasses on the pillows, sobbing into my palms with open vulnerability, "I'm sad and I'm scared and I'm angry and I just want to go back to being a shallow, selfish child again."

He sat beside me and wrapped his arms around me, entrenching me in the safe harbor of his serenity. His fingers ran slowly, lovingly, through my hair. "You were never a shallow, selfish child. Maybe you gained a new perspective, but you were never wrong to begin with."

"But this is different." My voice was whiny with tears. I hated it. I hated that my parents had instilled in me what they had. I hated myself for putting my mind ahead of my heart, for allowing myself to push for being a modern woman instead of simply consenting to something from the past to make me equally as happy.

"No, it's not. How is it possible you can still be so blind to how precious you are to me?"

I looked up and lightly pushed his shoulder, "I don't want to hear it right now, Bram. I don't need you to reassure me with love, I know I love you. I just don't know if I'll be disappointing everyone else or myself." One way or another, I was going to hurt myself sooner or later.

He sighed, lifting my knees and laying the both of us on the soft sheets. He dried my tears, locking his ruby gaze with mine. "I would kill for you. The only added part to that equation would be if it could be you and another being."

I didn't even let him continue as he would've. Slipping an arm around his neck, I pressed a soft kiss to his lips, "Either way, what bliss."

He chuckled against my lips, withdrawing to give my side a gentle squeeze. "Stop going to war with your head and your heart. Just let things be as they are."

I laughed, "If a Fangtell knew how to let things be as they are, we wouldn't have gotten into this mess in the first place."

My dawning smile brought a comfortable one to his face, one that only seemed to warm as he wound his fingers in my shirt against my side, "It's a very good thing you're about to take my name then."  
He had a point; no wonder I couldn't have been more in love with him. We beamed at each other for a long moment before I heard Sean yell, "Ya better not've ditched us to go screw around up there! I really don't wanna walk in on anythin'!"

Bram shouted something in Gaelic that I could only imagine translated to something of even greater profanity than I could've come up with, and it caused his brother to burst into audibly side-splitting laughter.


	38. Chapter Thirty-Eight

_Chapter Thirty-Eight_

After Sean had left, so did we. Instead of taking two cars, we piled into the hearse and headed into town. It was temperate to Chicago, and in all of our travels I felt as if we'd made a lateral move. Without much surprise on my part, we pulled up to the carousel and piled out. In the night, it wasn't running- probably for the safety of the humans on the other side of town. Still, I walked up onto the platform and perched on one of the horses. Vinnie came dashing up beside me, straddling one and grasping the stony mane, "High-ho Silver!"

The moonlight was dancing across the ground, illuminating the puddles and a far-off fountain. The sound of that combined with the river aided the calmly chirping bugs in a serene melody. Bram perched at one end of the nearest bench, reclining like an exhausted parent. After dealing with Sean for a few hours, I could imagine he was. Natasha wandered around the park, admiring things and touching them as she passed. Vinnie's antics ceased within moments, returning his attention to her with open, mesmerized, adoration. I glanced to him, smiling lightly, "Are you completely in love with her yet?"

He stared at her as if attempting to differentiate between the vampiress walking the grounds and some ethereal apparition. He shrugged, seeming to remember that he was supposed to answer me. There was guilt in his eyes and sorrow in his expression, "I need to let her go."

My brows raised, "Why?"

He propped his forearms up on the horse and rested his chin on them, his dark eyes sparkling like pebbles in a pond. "'Cause I love her. And she loves your house and your life, an' she loves you guys. If I'm going to be with her, I'm not going to give her that."

I rolled my eyes, "Of course you won't, you're you, Vinnie. When it comes down to it, yes there are glorious things in the world that every girl wants. Every girl wants to be a princess." His scowl only deepened before he surrendered, closing his eyes in protest. "If she loves you in return, it's not because of things that are mine. It's because _you_ make her feel like a princess."

His eyes snapped open, nearly as dark red as mine and his voice hardly above a hiss, "And she deserves more than that."

I'd dealt with enough childish games today. I shrugged and stood, touching the smooth, cool brass pole that pierced the horse's torso, "If you want to be stupid and give away one of the things that makes you the happiest, fine. It's no problem of mine. But you're not Dallas Winston, you're Vincent Stoker. And if anything were to change with Charles-"

"Ain't nothin' gonna happen to Charlie," he snapped. At least he'd read the book.

"If Ruth and Walter end up his parental figures and he stops running with you," I continued, "then you're going to need Natasha. You have to stop being selfish, what if she needs you?"

"What about you?" he asked. We were all growing up so fast. The last person I ever expected to think of others was Vinnie, even if he had been all along.

"I love you, Vincent Stoker," I replied. "You have been my brother infinitely longer than Valentine, and I require you to be happy."

"You require me," he murmured in consideration, "Not order, not command, _require._ If you gave a rat's ass about anybody but yourself and your boyfriend, I'd think you cared about me."

"I do care about you," I replied, "I care about very few people in this world, but you're one of them."

He smiled slightly, rising from his horse and taking another step toward me. "Let's hope being around others doesn't change that too much."

Tiffany and the others had never passed an errant thought before, why would newcomers matter any? If he knew I cared for so few people, how could I care for anyone new? Even revolutionaries could be royal brats like some we knew. I didn't get the chance to vocalize my thoughts, as we heard the approaching patter of sneakers on the pavement. Bram straightened slightly, glancing over his shoulder. I hadn't expected such an open show of emotion, but he broke into a grin and rose instantly, "Charlie!"

"Bram!"

He came into view then, chestnut curls swaying with the breeze his speed had generated. He broke into a wide, cherubic-dimpled grin and launched himself onto my fiancee. Vinnie grinned with equal enthusiasm, leaping off the carousel and swaggering over to the younger boy, "Hey Charlie! You forget about me so fast?"

"_Vinnie!_" The enthusiasm he had for the greaser was at least tenfold what he had for us. It brought a genuine smile to my lips as I dismounted the platform, crossing the lawn to our path of entrance with silent amusement. Natasha doubled back upon noticing our delighted intruder, and as I approached my smile became more cordial and more contrived, "Look who's coming."

Surely it was a sight that would've struck terror into the humans' hearts if they were awake to see it. At the front of the little marching troupe, Ruth, Walter and Tiffany led our old comrades straight to us. They filled up the street in a small parade, spilling onto the sidewalks to dodge cars and somehow keeping the precise, uniform pace of a legion. I set their steps to a beat in my mind, trying to distinguish if anyone was out of step. But as if it had been choreographed, no one was. Ruth broke into a wide smile, breaking the uniformity to dash over to us and wrap her arms around me, "Oh Gory! I'm so happy you're alright!"

I squeezed her tightly with genuine joy, "So am I. How is it here? Do you like it?"

She beamed, "Dracula sent his daughter here."

It was the best gossip I'd heard in years. I grasped her arms, drawing back from the embrace with my eyes newly alight, "_No._"

"Yes!" she gasped, bouncing on her slipper-clad toes, "Laura's a darling. I've seen her in passing, and she has quite the cute boyfriend too."

"He's a dog," Walter said, his tone absent of all amusement and enthusiasm. The comment had silenced all movement, including my own. Ruth sighed, turning her head, "I know how you are toward them, but I've seen this boy-"

"That is no boy," Bram said, his voice equally as hollow as Walter's on the subject. I glanced to him, noting when his eyes began to glint with planning. He smiled slightly, regal and wicked and infinitely more powerful than he'd ever let on. "We know what we are," he addressed his apprehensive crowd, "We were soldiers against them and we won. Our families won the wars of past, and we have won even the most recent. We are the kings." He glanced toward me with the same elegant evil in his eyes. My heart silenced for a few beats, spiking my blood with something venomous. I straightened a bit more, smirking to myself. "The nobility," he glanced toward Vinnie without acknowledging the offence it rose from some true nobility. Vinnie straightened as if he'd been selected for knighthood, one hand still on Charlie's shoulder. "We are the chosen, not only of our race but of the truest predators in the world. Possibly even the universe itself.  
We are the ones who strike terror into the hearts of man, the most arrogant of the species. We command those lesser to us. We once ruled the world with an adamantine gauntlet, and we shall again."

This was no longer just talk. I glanced to Natasha. Her lips were set in a firm, snowy line, her eyes wide with shock and despair. They had planned this, every bit had been contrived. Sean must've sent him word weeks ago, that was why he'd given up on this plan momentarily- it had already been set in motion. Infinite relief flooded my veins. I could've cried out in glee. Bram's eyes grazed the anxious masses, the turn of his lips increasing just slightly. He could've overthrown Dracula. There wasn't a doubt in my mind at that moment that he could, and he may as well try. They had been his unknowing spies, telling him of who he could control and who he could manipulate. And he glanced to me only once, offering his hand. He knew I knew, he never doubted my mind for a second. I smiled gratefully, clasping our hands and allowing him to pull me forth to the very center of our crescendoing plot.

"You have all put your trust in us thus far, and for that you will be rewarded. Once upon a time, at Belfry Prep, you all lusted for something more. You feared the war, you dreaded the change thrust upon you, and you mourn the losses it has caused. But tonight marks the dawn of a new era. Tonight, we will restore what is rightfully ours. This city is the united hub of our people. When we take this, we will take what is ours and more. Those peasants will be at our mercy once again, and there will be no way to stop us."

They were fighting words. They were a call to war, even though I knew without a doubt in my mind Bram could pull this off silently. No blood would be spilled in his war. _Our_ war. I was right in telling Vinnie what I had; Bram had every intention of making me a true queen. Power was air to him. He'd make Vinnie as powerful as the rest of us. Natasha could have whatever she wanted. And maybe it was the idea of it that put the delighted grin on Vinnie's features, but it dawned and it remained.

"Long live the king!" he shouted. The irony sent tingles of glee down my spine.

"Long live the king!" Charlie shouted.

"God save the queen," Tiffany muttered, a wry little smile on her lips. Natasha was the only one who remained frozen, watching us with horror and disdain. They awoke as if we'd thawed them from a winter frost. They cheered, becoming a crowd of support and enthusiasm. Every last one of them was driven by greed. Every last one of them was only thinking about themselves. They were all peasants, I realized. Every last one of them but our elite. I glanced to Ruth, to Tiffany, to Vinnie and Charlie. _We_ would lead, and they would be our army.

A twisted smile rested on my lips, and his arm wrapped leisurely around my waist. "Are you upset with me?" he teased.

"Never," I murmured, "I have you pegged, Bram."

I had them all pegged. It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to understand things about people that no one else did.  
We didn't notice as Natasha slipped away, but then again a part of me imagined from the look in her eyes that she would be gone by morning regardless of who begged her to stay.


	39. Chapter Thirty-Nine

_Chapter Thirty-Nine_

We arrived home long before dawn and went to bed. We were set to start school at Monster High in less than a week, just long enough to get the proper papers in order and settle in.

I slept in until noon, as per the house's consensus. We had all been up late, and Jonas had moved into the city before we'd even gone to bed. Vinnie hadn't even made it upstairs; after he'd fallen asleep in the car, we left him on the sofa to rest. Natasha had yet been accounted for, but it was likely she'd stayed in the city with the girls as she always had.

I went and got food and did a little unpacking before Vinnie tore into the room. His jacket was off and his eyes were full of half-terrified fury, "Where is she?!"

"Natasha?" I asked calmly, "Probably down in the city, why?"

He dropped a wadded-up, partially ripped note onto the foot of my bed. I stared at it for a moment while it registered, but slowly approached it anyway. Vinnie sunk onto the trunk, his eyes wrought with grief and hollow with combating it. He had suddenly found himself on the receiving end of his plan, and it was not a pleasant experience.

I slowly un-balled the parchment, surprised that he'd managed to get it to the state it was in. Tear-smudged ink formed words on the crinkled paper, words that were now hard to decipher with two sets of waterworks having blurred them. Reading them, over and over again, they began to have meaning.

_Vincent,  
I love you. I'm sorry, but I can't do this. I can't side with those people. I won't. I'm going home. I'll be in Seattle tonight. I have a flight tomorrow at four-fifteen in the evening, I'll be in Belgium to meet up with my sire's wife, then we're going to join them elsewhere. If you feel so inclined, join me. If not, I'm sorry. The only time you'll see me again is in the opposition to them.  
If you have to kill me, I'll understand. Just know that I will not, even when you drive home the stake, ever stop caring for you as you have for me. Keep your jacket. I don't want you to be cold.  
Always yours,  
Natasha_

Those people. We were his family, but we were those people to her. He was going to be torn regardless. If he chose us, he would abandon potentially the only girl capable of making him happy. But he was a greaser, he didn't just abandon his gang. I watched the torment in his eyes intensify until he did the one thing I swore to myself I'd never see him do, and cried. It was silent at first, a pair of solitary tears running down his face. He wore such an expression of pain that I imagined he could've worn the same being impaled with a white-hot poker very slowly. Then, he sobbed. Finally, he launched himself over the footboard and threw his arms around my torso, crushing me against him and bawling freely into my shoulder.

"I gotta go," he said with resigned horror, "I gotta go. I love ya but I gotta go. I gotta follow her, I gotta find her, I _love her._"

He didn't want to go. Honestly, I didn't want him to go, but I wasn't about to let him stay. He withdrew, staring into my eyes, "If this was you-"

"Shut up," I replied, "Go pack. I'll get my purse."

His eyes lit up, "You're not gonna try to keep me?"

I shook my head, "In all fairness, if this were me, I wouldn't expect anything short of Bram dashing after me in the most possibly romantic fashion possible." He wiped his face, rising as I crossed the room and grabbed my purse. He could buy his tickets after he got to her. I withdrew a handful of large bills, counting them out and placing them in his hands. He stared down at them, "This is a lot."

"There's a house in Vancouver..." I began, searching my journals for the address and coming up with it quickly. I scrawled it down, folded it and handed it off, "It was always an alternative. But you're taking Charlie with you."

He stared at me in confusion, "The kid?"

I stopped where I stood, momentarily confused as to where I'd placed my keys. "You two are Dallas and Johnny, yes you're taking him with you. He'll understand and so will Ruth."

"I got a car," he muttered, noticing my frenzy. My eyes returned to him and he crossed the room, shoving the money and the paper in his pocket. He extended his hand, smiling slightly, "You'll come visit, right?"

"You're going to fucking call, you're going to email, you're going to set up a Skype and I will never let you escape this circle, Vinnie Stoker." I poked him in the ribs before flinging my arms around his neck.  
Bram liked Vinnie because he was smart in tactic. He knew how to win a fight. I liked Vinnie because he was honest and loyal, just as a true greaser should be.  
I kissed his cheek and released him, but not before he gave me a soul-squishing squeeze and set me on my feet in return, "I'll call ya."

"Damn right you will," I laughed. He broke into a grin and tore down the hall. If I wasn't sure helping him was only going to slow him down, I would've gone to get him out of here as soon as possible. He had time, but he wasn't going to waste it. I wandered out a few minutes later, totally unsurprised to see Vinnie dashing out of the guest room with his backpack slung over his shoulder. It was only slightly upsetting to see that he hadn't attempted to unpack more. "I'm surprised she didn't take the car and my shit with her, that would've made me come after her."

"I still have no idea what she sees in you," I teased as we reached the bottom of the stairs. He whirled around, planted a vibrant kiss on my forehead and stepped back, "I'm headed off to the rainier North. Take care of yourself, baby girl."

"Don't forget the kid," I replied. He simply grinned and dashed out the front door.

Despite my sleep, I felt very tired compared to Vinnie. Conquest was a meticulous, burdensome thing. I sunk down on the stairs and listened to the Impala start and pull away violently. He needed to escape before he could be persuaded to stay. Vinnie was different than the rest of us because he was one of the few truly selfless. Even I had to admit, as surprisingly hard it would be to rise to power, it was easy for us. It was achievable. If there was more, why not take more...why not take it all? No one ever had to know where they were. A plane could crash in the pacific without being authorized to fly. They would be free and I would forever remain the center of the illusion.

"It's quiet today," Bram murmured as he settled on the stairs beside me.

"They've gone," I murmured, "They escaped, lest we taint their purity any more."

He chuckled, placing a soft kiss to my neck, "I've tainted you, haven't I?"

His breath against my skin was warm and gentle. I closed my eyes, allowing him to completely support me, "I always used to think you were so pure. Now it turns out that you've been just as bad as me all along. You're a master of illusion, Bram."

"The only thing I cannot hide is how deeply I love you," he murmured, detecting my train of thought before I could voice it. With a swiftness I had only seen on occasions of impending danger, he pulled me to my feet. Somehow still supporting me in his arm, he stepped and turned until my fingers laced through his. I squeezed his bicep to make sure he was real. My feet across the hardwood seemed to float, as did his. Hardly a sound of brushing fabric broke our silent dance.

"What I wouldn't kill for a player organ," he teased.

"Do you intend to follow this through?" I replied seriously. "We have so much more than the rest of them. We're already gods among insects, Bram, do we need more?"

His eyes ran me over, warm with adoration and tinged with amusement, "We can take our time. We do have eternity, my love. If you're content now, I'll withhold. Just know that if you ever want the world, it is at your fingertips."

We had quite a bit going for us. A president that opposed censorship and fought for equality among beings. I wondered if he'd fight for us. We had intended to do the same thing, hadn't we?  
I looked into his eyes and feared momentarily that my trust was an illusion as well. Could we trust each other when no one else could trust us? His eyes were open to me. His heart was bared for me. Bram was ambitious, seeking the approval of people he'd never cared for and looking to upstage the people who had wronged him. He wanted to be happy and he wanted to be great.

"Remember what happened to Gatsby," I said quietly as the thought crossed my mind.

He smiled, squeezing my waist very lightly, "I already have a woman better than Daisy Buchanan."

He put my mind at ease, whether either of us noticed or not. Gradually, my thoughts shifted from the possibility of conquest to how we were going to design the house and what we intended to do with ourselves. Our dance only ceased when Sabbath decided to leap between us and begin furiously pawing at Bram's shoelaces in attempt to attack a nonexistent prey. He scooped her up, immediately fawning over her as if she were his own, and by the time he'd set her down again I'd forgotten that I had been worried about anything at all.


	40. Chapter Forty

_Chapter Forty  
Sorry it's short today; wanted to update before I ran to my publishing party! You guys are hanging with a somewhat-published author! Eee! :D_

I turned up my music until it hurt that night. The only way to listen to my thoughts would be with complete and total isolation to them- even if we were unbelievably isolated out here. Vinnie was surely gone by now, likely with Natasha and safe, far away. Even if he hadn't contacted me yet, he had to be close at the very least. School, while not a typical priority, did cross my mind. Belfry Prep had been what I wanted it to be. Classes there had been based on my interests, not state mandate. The more I thought it over, the more the idea of completely abandoning it seemed better and better. Education had once been a timekeeper, a thing that we did because we were bored. We'd enjoyed it, even. But the thought of this took the enjoyment of any of it right out of it.

My headphones were suddenly removed and Bram's voice pierced my thoughts, "First thought on your mind, go."

"If you've gotten us stuck in a math class, I'm dropping out." It was an honest thought; I'd kill to never look at numbers again. I'd hated them when I was young and from what I'd seen I'd only hate it more, if that was even possible.

He laughed, jumping easily over the trunk and the footboard, settling in beside me with his arm around my shoulders, "Don't worry about it. I told you, I've got it covered."

"And what might be on your thoughts?" I replied, half-teasing him.

He shrugged, tipping his head slightly. "We are fed and unpacked, and even if we have to, you could bullshit five weeks."

I glanced at my phone again. With Vinnie gone, there were three less people in my immediate circle. In fact, Bram was the only person keeping me from being utterly and completely alone. Our family knew we were alright, they kept their distance now, and Jonas was down in the city with his old friends. Things were almost back to normal, save for the fact that now we together, as a unit, were alone.

"You're upset," he murmured, rubbing my arm.

I shrugged; what could I say? The last time I'd had to do legitimate schooling, my parents had been hard on me. They never were hard on me, save for my average math grade. Every time they'd freak on me, every time I'd come through. School had always put enough pressure on me, the last thing I had needed was them threatening to take away all the outlet I had. It was enough to make me borderline depressed. The acceptance to Belfry Prep had made me free.

"We're relinquishing our freedom," I murmured. Married life couldn't be so bad. Surely he had stacks of official papers from the headmaster's office, he could draw us up diplomas in a moments' notice. We could go to higher school instead of this. I would've taken staying home to tend to the house instead of this.

"It won't be as bad as you think it is," he murmured, squeezing my arm, "I've heard they're expanding on Monster Pride. Less state, less humans...more us."

I forced a little smile and rested my head on his shoulder. It was an instant accommodation for me, something I couldn't find anywhere else even if I tried. Draping my arm across his torso, I whispered into his skin, "I don't think I can properly tell you how much I love you."

He smiled, grasping my shoulder and guiding my body closer to his. I nestled in happily. "You make me happy," he murmured while brushing his fingers softly through my hair. "That's something that most people could only dream of accomplishing."

Well, I certainly understood that feeling. I kissed his jaw very gently, nestling into the crook of his neck. My fingers traced gently over the buttons of his shirt, exhaling the negativity with each breath. It was slowly bringing relief into my system again. Bram had that effect on me; he was quite the physical and emotional pain reliever. "We're still getting there," he muttered. "I have us enrolled as juniors. It would only be another year. I figured that would be long enough to decide what we wanted to do."

The thought must've panicked him too, as his caresses faltered slightly. My lips pressed gently to his. A year to a vampire was nothing; it was a mortal's day. But a lot could happen in a year, just as it could a day. Days could make or break lives. I pressed another kiss to his jaw, slipping my arm up around his neck to reassure him. His eyes closed slowly, "We've been immobile for so long."

"I know," I murmured.

"Are you even in the slightest afraid?" I considered his words carefully before shaking my head.

"No. I don't fear what can't hurt me, or immediately shouldn't." He hardly moved to breathe, but when he did, I knew it. He wrapped his arms around me, falling back onto the mattress with my body trapped against his. I giggled into his neck, placing soft kisses over his tender vein. "I love you," I exhaled against his skin, nipping his pulse lightly. He chuckled, rolling on his back and tugging my shirt until I crawled up to kiss his lips as well. He bit my lower lip in return, growling playfully. I grinned, biting back at the first opportunity. His lips pressed forcefully to mine, locking the both of us in a passionate battle for dominance that only grew more adoring by the moment. I surrendered, allowing him to shift my body under his.

"Bram," I giggled, pushing gently on his chest.

He shifted his weight, drawing back to his knees and gazing down at me with a look of pure desire and worshipful bliss. I hadn't seen the look in quite some time with everything that was going on, and it filled my heart with reassurance that spread through my blood and restored the comfort that I'd been lacking for the few displaced hours since Vinnie's sudden leave.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever laid eyes upon."  
Sometimes I wondered if he read my mind. I shrugged, reaching up to unbutton my top, "But I'm not conventionally beautiful."

"If convention is beautiful than I've never seen beauty." He leaned forward, shifting his weight back onto his palms. The teasingly slow upward curve of his lips in a tiny smirk made my toes curl. I could've blushed. I probably was blushing and didn't notice. My eyes fell slightly. He grasped my chin and gently turned my face upward. Quite a few girls would've been intimidated by gazing into the intensity of Bram's eyes. but I couldn't be. His eyes had seen more and understood far greater than anyone else's, and he'd never know how grateful I was for it. I wasn't beautiful to a lot of people. I was hardly beautiful to myself and if it wasn't for paintings before the iCoffin app, I would've never seen myself.

As I slipped off my shirt, he paused my hands halfway undone. My face warmed at the soft brush of his lips lowering to my skin, caressing over my collarbone intimately. His fingers nudged mine aside, opening the rest of my shirt himself. His lips traced a slow path down my stomach and back up, capturing mine tenderly. The action was repeated several times in shedding cloth from skin, both on my part and his. My arms locked around his back and pressed our chests together forcefully. He brushed my hair from my neck with a ghost of a touch, the soft exhale of his breath against my skin enough to awaken the primal urge that bared my fangs and surrendered my instinct to bite him in exchange for submission. His eyes were glowing naturally, shimmering ruby with more force than I had anticipated. His opulent fangs bared only slightly before they sunk into my neck.

It was a flash of nerve-wrenching pain followed by nothing short of complete euphoria. I cried out in surprise, hardly aware of the sound until it had burst free from my lips. For a vampire, giving a bite was hardly as intimate as receiving one. My pulse increased. Being bitten was almost as good as sex, it really was. He knew all the teasing, tender ways to brush his fingers against my blood vessels and spur my surrender quickly. I sunk my fangs into my lower lip, my fingers locked in the sheets beneath us. Slowly, he reclined, his lips sealed against the wound. The gentle flicks of his tongue against the wound sent shocks of ecstasy through my veins. If I bit any harder, I'd rip my lip in two. My fangs withdrew harshly as my nails dug into his shoulders. He withdrew with a sharp snarl, pressing hard, wet kisses to the bloody ivory skin.

"Stop teasing," I panted.

His eyes locked on my lower lip. My blood was smeared across his mouth, reddening the side of his mouth. Edging forward slightly, I licked the blood up gently, completely unsurprised when he caught my lower lip in his mouth and sealed the wound between his teeth. I whimpered. He sealed the split skin gently with his tongue before dropping his full weight on top of me. I huffed. He laughed.

"You won't be laughing in about five minutes," I cautioned.

He grinned, his teeth smeared with ruby, "Neither will you."

Whether we had candles and much lead-up or not, being close to him this way was special. We were two halves of a puzzle, meant to be completed this way. I kissed him softly, passionately, daring him to live up to his word.

Needless to say, he did.


	41. Chapter Forty-One

_Chapter Forty-One_

Sometimes it was impossible to share a bed with her.  
She had this fragile, youthful sweetness about her when she slept that her sharp wit and dark humor rarely ever let anyone see usually, even me. She had the habit of cuddling; she'd deny it until the day she'd die, but if she didn't have her arms around something, she was nestled back into something. Typically, I was the something. Tonight was one of her rare nights, though. She kept shifting every fifteen minutes until she ended up settling on her stomach with her face pressed sideways into the pillow and the blanket covering her nearly entirely, save for below her right knee, which peeked out surprisingly straight.

I'd been tired before she started shifting in her sleep. Now I couldn't sleep in the slightest, even if I tried. My eyes, after being rested for a few moments, started awakening my mind. I brushed my fingers through her hair slowly, curling up as close to her as I could get in an attempt to fall asleep, but the lower door swung open with an audible squeal of its hinges and I pressed my hands to her ears to keep the sharp slam that followed from waking her.

Gory didn't even budge, but I did. Irritation only further contributed to the mood insomnia was putting me in. I reached down to the floor and pulled the lower half of my clothes back on, heading out silently and down to a bathroom at the end of the hall where my rising wouldn't disturb her.

When you grew up with an older brother, you understood that privacy just wasn't an option. I'd learned not to be pee-shy young, and it was that fact I was grateful for as Sean came barreling in, "You'll _never_ believe what I just saw!"

"The dark inside of the house you built for me when you know we should be sleeping?" The tension slowly dissipated; I was used to these late-night exchanges with Sean, even if they hadn't been constant for a while. Zipping up and moving to the sink, I glanced to him once. He was half-dazed, likely exhausted himself. "Do you even know what time it is?"

"D' you?" he asked, breaking out of his daze.

I shrugged honestly, bumping down the tap with my forearm and grabbing the towel on the bar of the shower door. Silver fleur de lis; he _did_ have some taste.

"There's a whole bunch of lycans movin' through. Whole pack, likely. They better not be stoppin'."

I exhaled slowly, folding the towel and draping it over the bar once again. "Which way?"

"The city," he said, "They're not headed here."

"Obviously." There was a burning scorch in my lower chest that reminded me of the force of my hatred for the creatures. Sean followed me as I flicked the light switch and descended the main staircase. Relocating to the kitchen, I pulled out the first thing my fingers landed on and sat down with it. He turned on the oven's overhead lights and leaned against the counter. "It's not like you need those," I pointed out, taking the lid off of the container of ham and ripping a piece of meat from a slice.

"Were there many alive when y' left Maine?" he asked quietly.

I shrugged. "They lost more than we did." The thought crossed my mind of returning to the battlefield that morning and seeing our comrades, our teachers being accounted for and holes being dug. Jonas had buried Isodora entirely on his own and sat there, under the weeping willow tree, covered in her blood until he told me he was leaving. I hadn't stopped him, nor had I helped. The image that had been carved in my mind of Gory's wounds had been enough. The sight of the often horribly disfigured bodies hadn't fazed me at the time. They were now.

"How long haven't ya been sleeping?" he asked, a little softer than before.

I rubbed my eyes, finally surrendering to the brotherly sympathy. "One or two nights a week. I sleep. Just not as much."

Sean stayed blessedly silent, so silent I thought he might've been hunting for a new topic when there were a myriad of them all around us in this new palace. If I'd been more awake and less irritable, I might've complimented him on his craftsmanship.

"They hurt 'er, didn't they?"

It was getting increasingly hard to breathe. With my eyes closed, all I could see was the slashes, the cuts that gushed blood. Her red stained hands clamped over them and a weapon clasped between her fingers, her smashed glasses in her pocket on a reflex, already losing shards... There was a knot in my chest, tight with anxiety even though she was upstairs, fast asleep, having long forgotten the trauma her body had been through. The air escaped me as a familiar thought crossed my mind and wrought my already aching heart; I could worship her night after night and never be tired, never lose my desire for her, but I hadn't been able to protect her. Gory was not a woman who needed protecting, but against a lycanthrope it should've crossed my mind. It should've been my first priority. _She_ should've been my first priority.

"Breathe," Sean said. The gentleness left his tone quickly as he reached out and hit my arm, "Goddamn it Bram, yer gettin' blue in the face! Breathe!"

I let in air slowly. It was one thing to take my brother's roughhousing, it was another completely to let him see me this way. He went around the counter regardless, stopping less than a foot away. Of course he had no idea what to do, I was at a loss for myself as well. "She was dying," I whispered when the air returned to my lungs. It pained me to think the word, let alone speak it. "I gave her all that I could, and it kept her alive."

"She doesn't look bad for a dead girl," he muttered, the joke implied but lacking humor. Why it had hit so hard now I tried not to understand. It would've hit even harder with my father. Here was one of the men I was supposed to exceed, one I never had, and I was admitting my near defeat. "But she's alright, I've seen 'er."

"Of course she is," I replied, "She's glorious that way. She could have her hand entirely engulfed in flame and never bat a lash."

He laughed, "Remember when she threatened to wrestle me if I didn't leave ya alone?"

I smiled. Of course I did. Gory was a tough girl. Somehow she always surpassed the men that were supposed to be her peers without emasculating them. Her strength was as admirable as it was unnecessary, but I could imagine being the only child had hardened her enough. No one had been there to defend her before us, so she'd made sure she'd never need defending. She fought back with the regal malice of a queen and always made sure her opponents were left decimated. It was part of the reason why I love her as deeply as I have.

"Sure it's your responsibility," Sean said with a shrug, settling in the seat beside me, "but a girl like that don't need defending. Neither of ya do." He glanced outside, likely trying to judge the time. "I've seen it in her eyes. She'd kill for ya."

"As I would for her," I replied, rubbing my eyes. It had to be at least three thirty, but he didn't move and neither did I. My hands fell, landing on the lid of the cold cuts and I placed it back on, snapping it shut gently. The container sat between us then. We were both too tired and too stubborn to budge. "The nursery..." I began. He smirked, giving me my answer before I asked. I did anyway. "Was that an honest thought, or were you just being an asshole?"

He chuckled, "Well, there were two options. Either ya married her because ya love her and ya never wanna let her go, or she's pregnant and you're the most likely candidate. Now I love the girl, but will one of ya tell me what it is before I say somethin' offensive to find out?"

"You're a dick," I shot back, making him laugh a bit louder.

"That doesn't answer my question," he said, grinning deviously.

I glanced down at my folded hands, twitching a shoulder. "She's not pregnant. And I do love her with all that I am."

"But ya didn't marry her for love, so what is it then?" There was one thing I hated about Sean above all else, and that was that he was smarter than he acted. I couldn't even put it off now that he'd gotten it in his mind. Sean with a question was like a dog with a good bone, he could never let it go no matter how hard I tried to hide it.

"I was afraid she'd do something stupid," I murmured. The countertop was more interesting than it should've been while I talked to him. "I trust her, of course, and she's never...exhibited the behavior before, but she was in such agony over her mother's death...then our friends had to leave. And the battle... She was alright with dying. She was worried about me, not herself. I was sitting there, feeding her, repeating in my mind _how stupid are you? Just how stupid are you? I can't live without you._"

"The both of ya are the two most naturally depressed people I've ever met in my life," he muttered.

"You have no idea what it's like to us," I snapped, raising my eyes. "You don't know her, you hardly know me."

"I'm not judging," he replied sharply, "Goddamn it, I know you plenty well. You're smart, and it's a blessing and a curse. You see the world in all it's hateful glory and all you can do is hate back. You could be a real help t' people but you can't love 'em the way you love her. You're hurtin', she's hurtin', all the world's done is hurt ya both over and over again and ya both hate everybody but each other. I know, there's shit between you two you'll never let me understand, but don't pretend that I'm stupid enough not to see the two of ya for what ya are."

"What am I?" I growled, getting up, "What am I, Sean?"

"A poor, sad little boy and his girlfriend who are too scared of death t' kill 'emselves!" he snapped in reply. I heard the undertone and knew the only thought on his mind was that if I had real guts, I'd do it. I'd get myself out of the agony I was responsible for putting myself in.

"It's a side effect of immortality," I said slowly, "You knew it in the war."

He exhaled, running his fingers over his gilded straw hair, "Dammit, ya know I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" My voice was hollow, cold. He'd pissed me off, an unsurprising fact that came with having a brother as equally as my lack of privacy.

"You're not all gone," he muttered. "Sure, you're not the kid that smiles all the time anymore, but you're still you. Ya have a good heart, Bram, you'd be capable of carin' about someone if ya just let yourself. Is it really so hard to love anybody but her?"

"Yes," I replied. Soft, continually cold, just like I felt toward him. "Everybody loves you, Sean. You're the athlete. You're the star. I've got _your_ looks, and I can't pretend I don't hear the whispers. The only difference between you and I is that I'm not willing to play superman to show off and beat up the people who are still stupid enough to speak against me."

"You pity them," he replied.

"I pity them because if I have empathy for them, they'll worm their way in, do their damage and go. That's what people do, Sean, human or not."

He stared at me for a very long time. The sky was getting a little lighter. He had to go, and I needed to try to sleep before Gory noticed I was gone. Sean looked me in the eye, speaking very calmly and coolly, "You're one of the only men smart enough to understand humanity, Bram. You know more about the heart than Freud knew about the brain. Don't let it ruin ya."

He picked up the ham, putting it back in the refrigerator and walking toward the kitchen door. He paused only once, "I'm gonna finish the house, then I'm headin' home. I know ya don't want me here. But I love ya, and I love her too. She's gonna be my sister." He shrugged. "I'm here. If either of ya ever need me."

If I responded to him, I'd tear into him and it could end in a fight. My eyes didn't leave him once, not until he left the room and walked through the entryway, out the door. Silently, I turned out the light and checked the door before returning to whence I'd come.

She was still sleeping, on her back this time. Even still peaceful, I could tell she was uncomfortable, and I shed my pants to crawl in beside her. Tugging the sheet free of her, I draped it partly over myself and pulled her close.

"Mm," she muttered, "Where've you been?"

"I had to go to the bathroom," I murmured, kissing her temple softly, "Go back to sleep."

Her head lowered to my arm fully, her fingers lacing through one of my hands while the other clutched my arm, "I love you."

"I love you too," I whispered in her ear.


	42. Chapter Forty-Two

_Chapter Forty-Two_

Morning brought bird songs that were both foreign and familiar. If I were more of a naturalist, I might've looked into it, but I had things to do for school.

Jennifer Lopez was turned up to a comfortable level in the unused basement. Mirrors had no functionality for me, but they might've been a convenience to see my feet. Belfry Prep had been the best at everything, simply because that was what vampires were. Intelligent, agile, beautiful- we were the best of the best. And it was as if the other night's affirmation had re-instated my position as fearleading captain as well, because I was certifiably dancing my ass off to come up with a routine for them.

I'll be first to admit fearleading isn't my forte; I'm a much better writer than I am a dancer. But the benefits of being in a purely synthetic corset that dated rather recently came in free flexibility. Some of the girls were young enough to probably have never danced properly a day in their lives. It was funny; most of all I could do was ballroom. The eighties and beyond had never been very entertaining, save for Marilyn Manson. Music with a strong tempo was very Latin, and Italy was the birthplace of the Latin world...  
While other peoples' parents were calm and mild mannered, I remembered vividly at the turn of the century how quick and lovely my parents' dancing had been. It was unnerving to others, a little too intimate for the dance floor, but the style was a pace of our lives. Wild, fierce and without barrier, that was the Fangtell way.

I didn't know how long I'd been dancing, just that my iCoffin had been on repeat quite a few times. Every step was falling even more freely into place as I rehearsed and committed my actions to muscle memory. It was sweltering, and I was likely using up all the oxygen in the room. My skin wore a light sheen of sweat, at least I thought it did. I wasn't paying attention much to the burning in my cheeks. Spin, out in second. Pop star. Left, right, left, right...

The bubble around me was broken by blessedly cold air, and I didn't break my movements for a moment to call over my shoulder, "Thank you, Sean!"

"I'll finish putting the AC in down here," he called over the industrial fan he placed on the floor, "Want a mirror panel?"

"And a shelf for my dock?" I said, pausing with the end of the song to stop it before it could continue. The speaker set looked pitiful on the concrete floor; about as pitiful as my knees would after a while dancing here.

"Hardwood?" he asked, echoing my thoughts.

I nodded, still somewhat breathless. He had a half-empty water bottle in hand that he immediately offered and I accepted gratefully. After a long swig, I gasped, "-Time is it?"

He shrugged a shoulder, "'Round noon."

I nodded, picking up my memo pad and scribbling down the rest of the choreography down. He walked down, inspecting the room and the foundation before glancing to me, "He worries about ya, yanno."

"Of course I know," I replied, flipping the page back into place and sinking down onto the stairs. Sometimes I imagined watching Sean was like watching an artist at work. Artistic genes ran in the Devein family as much as they ran in mine, it seemed. My father had revolutionized a secure communications system for monster-kind, designed entirely on the whim of one too many science fiction novels and a longstanding friendship with a predominant journalist in Albany among the outstanding art and architecture degrees of his they had discussed frequently. My parents' exploits probably rivaled Sean's alone. I sat motionless, blending into the wall as I watched and observed hopefully the same with my mind as in his. Shiny, light wood across the floor. Ballroom tile, perhaps. The ceiling was too low to do much ornamentation, but I had no doubt he'd try. He'd turn the place into a ballroom before I had a studio, complete with crystal chandelier and stereo built into the wall.

"I wish ya could see yourself," he said suddenly, breaking my fantasy.

"Why?" I said, brushing down any potentially flyaway strands of hair.

"Cause," he said simply. I took it as a compliment, even if it wasn't. He turned around slowly, staring at me with deep, rich red eyes that I imagined would've been stark emerald green if he were human, and began slowly walking toward me with his index finger quirked. "You remind me of somebody."

"An old friend?" I teased.

He paused for a very long moment, regarding me as he came to stand beside the stairs before lowering his hand and breaking into a wide, devious grin, "Elizabeth Bathory."

I laughed out loud. "Too bad none of the girls I know are virgins! I would've upped my body count!"

He laughed with the vigor of a lion's roar. It was a booming, jolly sound this early in the day. I stood, allowing him to pass, but he merely walked up a few steps beside me and dragged me up with him. Back in the surprising brightness of the main house, it took my eyes a moment to readjust to the light. In that time, he headed into the main room and threw back a set of the curtains. Instinct took over; I leapt back into the wall with a ferocious hiss, dropping the memo pad and pen in the ray of light and leaving the door ajar behind me. But Sean stood there, likely already coated in sunscreen, his hand pressed to the warm glass. "Don't ya love the sun?"

"When it stays outside," I growled between clenched teeth.

He glanced back, remembering I'd been in his path, "Sorry."

My eyes remained narrowed long after he'd pulled the curtain shut. Finally budging, I shut the door with a resounding slam and took my notes into the kitchen. It might've been instinctual for him to go toward the light, but it was equal parts stupid and dangerous. One day, he was going to forget that sunblock and he'd pay for it.

"I'm sorry," he said as he followed me in, "It's a habit."

My first reply would've been to keep his habits in his own house, but it was too rude to voice despite my anger. I tried to calm myself while I sought out my tea in the cupboard.

"You an' Bram are definitely a match," he muttered. I was fuming too badly to take the compliment. Hunting unsuccessfully for a few minutes, I gave up and sunk against the counter in defeat. Instinct vowed to lose control of my temper and break something. Leaving my notepad, I went to fight it the best way I could- with a nice, private bath.

Bram was still soundly sleeping, his golden hair fanned out across the pillow like a gilded halo. I paused for a moment, my breath catching in my throat. Sean was very believably vampiric, but his brother was the only vampire I had ever seen that could be mistaken for an angel.  
An angel that loved a demon, but an angel regardless. The irony was boundless in comparison.

I found something suitable in the closet and headed into the bathroom. It was gorgeous, more updated than my home or the school, even while retaining its old glamour. I drew the warm water while gathering my poppy scented bubble bath. I rose up, just enough to see the slight, ghostly appearance of the purple-dyed streaks of my hair reflected in the mirror. My glasses sat on an invisible nose, and the light glinted a shine off my clear-coated fingernails as I pressed them to my lips. Makeup, though tangible, still appeared ghostly on me. Why, I'd never know. If it had to do with my soul, it shouldn't have effected me physically. If it was physical, it shouldn't mean the iCoffin could photograph us.

I sighed and dumped a generous amount of poppy-scented gel into the water, turning off the faucet with my free hand. The water, though blurred with foam, was still. So still, in fact, it felt as if the answers to the mysteries of vampirism were only beneath the surface. My parents had told me that once when I was very young, I leapt into the bath tub again after a bath to see what the water looked like under the bubbles and nearly drowned myself. The curiosity at that moment was very similar, yet somehow I took my time and set myself up nicely before slipping in and allowing the foam to graze my skin. I set my glasses off to the side and took a deep breath before lowering myself under the surface.

Though slightly blurry between the soap and my eyes, it was clear. The tub was deep enough that I could lay comfortably, although without much room to move beyond that. I stared at my toes for the duration of my withheld breath, the gathering of bubbles around them as my heels rested over the drain. My lungs took their time experiencing the ache of breathlessness. I kept myself that way until I absolutely couldn't bare it any longer, surfacing with a wild gasp and letting out a breathless shriek of shock when I came nearly face-to-face with my fiancee. He fell backward in surprise, palms colliding with the tile floor. I stared at him for a moment, breathing heavily while my shock turned to amused annoyance. Both of our mouths were hanging open, words on our minds yet not coming out. He laughed once, awkwardly, grinning angelically, "Well."

Sean burst in the room with a bat, a bandana over his eyes, "What's happenin'!?"

It was my turn to lose control on my sense of humor. I sunk down until my neck was immersed in bubbles, slapping my hand against my forehead. Bram shifted only slightly to grab his brother's weapon and tug it out of his hands, "Sean, you're an idiot."

He lifted his bandana slightly and turned around partially. I could see his cheeks flaming anyway, "I was hopin' I hadn't walked in on worse."

"I wish you had," Bram muttered, somehow still amused. Sean stole a quick glance. I lifted my hand from the foam to wave, attempting to control my giggling.

"Hurry up," Bram teased, rising from the floor, "Someone else needs to use this bathroom too."

"We have others," I shot back, "Don't let me stop you."

He stuck his tongue out at me while pushing his brother out of the room. As soon as the door was shut, I laughed again- and all of my answers had come to me like waves in still water.


	43. Chapter Forty-Three

_Chapter Forty-Three_

In the short week that passed before we would enter the school, I had read an average of a book a day, kept in near-constant contact with Vinnie, and helped Sean as much as possible with my ballroom basement. Of course, he had ended up with mirrored walls and an ornate ceiling, but instead of a chandelier, he placed upwards-facing lights to illuminate the bright, brass-rimmed cathedral mural of a summer sky. The floor had been done in pale hardwood, glossy and new on the floor and paneling the stairs. He'd even installed a brass railing to ensure that no one would fall over the edge, likely to keep the masterpiece of a basement from taking on repairs, and he'd given me the shelf I'd asked for. My docking set was a little less pitiful in the room while it was connected to speakers on the far side, wired delicately against the brass lighting fixtures. It was in that room that I had brought our team over a few times, taught them my routine and proceeded to take them to lunch on the veranda. We had set up a fire pit and large, stone planters- two large, thin rectangles that came about halfway up the fence and had already begun blooming Moonflowers, Wallflowers and Four O' Clocks, and classical, round, stone ones for the edge that were teeming over with luxurious hibiscus and citrus-colored gardenias. Toward an open span of fencing near the kitchen, we'd placed an outdoor fireplace with a removable top, and not far from that, a set of patio furnature, only slightly more than a bistro set, of the same wrought iron as the fence.

A little more than a week here, and we were entertaining with the same propriety as Jay Gatsby. It had mostly been our friends and comrades so far, but a few vampires of the town had wandered up one evening, apparently enthralled by the vivid stories our friends had painted of our secluded life from the town below. It felt strangely regal to be so isolated. While they embraced the wonders of modern life, we clutched to tradition and kept our faith in destiny. Even Tiffany was changing her tune. The boys here suited her, she'd told me once during a slightly delayed lunch, they were open-minded, loyal and kind. Apparently she spent her fair time around the library and had met several boys, human and monster alike, who had shared her passion for changing political and social tides.  
"Politics should've stayed a man's sport," I'd replied and left the conversation at that. Everyone knew how heated politics got when I involved myself in them.

Not many were invited in. Tiffany and the girls, most of whom I had rarely spoken to and felt no need to do much socializing with, were a few of the only ones who had been within the house's walls. Walter, Ruth and Jonas were our usual guests, but even tonight they didn't join us. I hoped, as it grew later, that they wouldn't. Things were getting a little too out of control.

"For Christ's sake, ya act like I can't hear ya late at night! I might 'a made the walls thick, but I didn't lose my hearin' none!" Sean argued with Bram while making himself a steak sandwich. I could hear them from the kitchen, and I rolled my eyes to refrain from rising to slap them both. The cover, and many pages, had been bent back on my new copy of _Silver Linings Playbook_ that had only spent hours outside of the shelf and already was more than halfway finished.

"It's not like you have to ask every day how it's coming along! We're getting our bearings here, Sean, we've been spending days catching up on the house and settling in, and now we'll have to handle catching up in school-"

"All the more reason ya should've done it earlier! What the hell were you doing in Chicago all that time?"

"Trying not to get killed," I replied, though if they heard me, they pretended they hadn't. It was a warm night and spring was in full swing. It had to be almost seventy, at least that was what I thought from my comfort in a short-sleeved shirt and yoga pants. My bare feet were kissed by faint rays of sun, coated in just enough stray sunscreen not to burn. All around the house, nature was alive. With the boys shouting, I was surprised birds came over to the flowers in search of prey at all.

"Handling matters of our family, Sean. _Our_ family, meaning yours as well now."

"Not yet now! Ya gotta get married for me to worry about the Fangtell clan being part of our clan!"

"Asshole," I muttered.

"Ah shut up Gory, y'know I love ya!" he said, very loudly, in my direction. I smirked, tuning out the next few sentences of my fiancee's. I could only focus on reading for another moment, because their voices rose again and I with them. Leaping nimbly over the fence with my finger holding the place of my book, I went out toward the edge of the hill and settled in far away from the house. A chipmunk scurried through the grass nearby, its soft and fleeting pulse returning my world to focus. I sunk down in the grass and stretched out, the fading sun warming the earth just enough to keep away the impending evening chill. I propped up my book and read a few more chapters before it even occurred to me that the light had continued to fade away until the rising moon had taken its place as my reading lamp. Folding down the corner, I finally budged and allowed my fingers to graze the slight dew on the blades by either of my sides. The insects kept a wide berth, instinct warning even the smallest creatures of my predatory status. The thought of being free of anything crawling in my hair was enough to allow me the shortest moment fully laying in the grass, staring up at the wide, faceted pearl of our sky. The stars were like glitter on dark velvet, and I almost expected them to fall in a shower as they were shook away. I only had a moment to realize just how beautiful it was before I forgot it entirely, my insides going piercingly cold with unspeakable terror.

The howl I heard wasn't animalistic, it was worse. It was the intelligent sound of a lycanthrope, distinguishable by its pitch and vigor. There were answering calls, and they were close. I suppose Bram had heard it the moment I had. I bolted to my feet, book clutched like a weapon despite how soft its spine was, and sprinted back the way I'd come. Leaping over the gate, I hardly had the balance to catch my footing before pushing him back just as he appeared in the door, moving past and pulling it sharply shut behind him. He bolted the top lock and I the bottom two.

"The hell is all that racket?" Sean asked from the den; the doors were otherwise impenetrable, I hoped, and the curtains were drawn. It took all of my strength to push down the lump in my throat and grasp one of the silver candlesticks off the mantle in the main hall, "Werewolves."

He appeared in the door with a big, boyish grin and a quirked brow, "Really?"

"This isn't a fucking game," Bram half-snarled, taking the other. We set the ivory pillars they had contained on the surface and made our way to the den regardless. I shelved my book with the knowledge that I wouldn't read again tonight. I couldn't sit with my back to the door. Call it an Italian thing- it was self-preservation. My heart was pounding, and Bram settled beside his brother on the tiny couch facing the television.

"Aren't you going to go do something?" Sean asked. I realized he had been watching sports, something he probably expected us to want to change. Bram shook his head, lips remaining in a hard, pink line. Sean blessedly turned down the volume and listened himself. We must've spent hours in the den with the candlesticks between us. I eventually shifted to a chair and made myself small, a tactic they say would keep a person alive in most life-threatening situations. Maybe it was the grimness of his face, or the seriousness in his brother's eyes, or the phantom pain in the center of my torso, but I didn't sleep. Even when they began to drift into light and fitful slumbers aided only by the quiet distraction of TV, I didn't sleep at all. I sat through three cooking shows and two hours of home decor on another channel before the ghostly light caressed the curtains.

I let out a breath of relief then. Of course the howling had been silent for hours, but I hadn't felt quite as if I were alone yet. I budged to turn off the TV and shift in my chair, glancing once toward the candlestick before taking a brief, much-needed nap.

...

Morning brought the brew of almost unbearably strong coffee laced with caffeine boosts, thanks to Sean, and a mad dash to take to the bathrooms and ready ourselves for school. For some reason or another, I threw on my old Belfry Prep clothes and took off down the stairs in a rush. My appearance, though hurried, managed to catch my fiancee's brother's eye. He whistled teasingly as I took my coffee and chugged, ignoring the searing, scorching pain that ripped through my throat. It was hot enough to cry at, but I didn't have time to bat a lash. That earned another, impressed whistle of its own. Plucking an equally scorching piece of bacon from the pan and dropping it into my mouth, Sean swatted my hand, "Hey, ya got enough time to eat like a human."

"I'm not human," I reminded him through a quick swallow to prevent any more pain, "Neither are you."

He gestured to the refrigerator and I eagerly took one of the blood bags from the shelf and downed it. They were packed so tightly that they only seemed relieved to have one less in their ranks. I took out another for Bram, setting it on the counter and shutting the door just as he dashed in, grabbed a handful of still grease-scalding meat and downed it, along with equally painful coffee. How our reflexes allowed us to do that was beyond me, but the pain had been soothed almost instantly by the blood. He grimaced in pain as I slid over the blood bag and smiled slightly in silent appreciation.

"Fuck, you're married," Sean said, taking note of our entire conversation of expressions and observations. Silent communication had always been there between us, though I don't think I'd noticed it until recently. I smiled, he mirroring the same, and he grabbed his keys out of our aptly named "stuff bowl" on the other counter, "Ready?"

I nodded. Sean glanced to us, "Sure ya don't wanna steal my eggs too?"

"Thank you already," I replied, beaming. We had to leave first to head the charge, and since we were the farthest away, time was of the essence. Making a quick dash to the car, we ducked inside and started up in record time.

"House keys?" I asked.

"Check," he replied.

"Locked the door?"

"Check."

"Turned off the TV?"

"Yes, Mother."

I glanced to him, nudging up my glasses with the tip of my index finger, "Are you really ready for this?"

He smiled with contentment, reaching out to grasp my hand tightly in his. "I'm already reconsidering just running off to the wilds with you to live out our adult lives."

"Now he tells me," I teased. He kissed my hand and glanced toward our little road, placing a light pressure on the gas to roll our car forward. If we'd even had the slightest clue of what was coming, we might not have bothered getting out of bed that day- but the fact that we did said enough in itself. Bram and Gory Devein were not going to be traipsed upon, not by Lycanthropes, anyone or any_thing_ else.


	44. Chapter Forty-Four

_Chapter Forty-Four_

The car eventually found the sunlight, slowly rolling down the pavement past the dual colonials that were inhabited by our followers. The knowledge that the Impala wouldn't be in our procession was enough of a thought to dampen my mood only temporarily, yet reinforce my knowledge that I had to be the leader they needed. Tash may not have been happy with it, but I had a duty to my people to uphold that no one else was. I straightened in my seat and looked directly ahead, folding my hands in my lap and taking a slow, calming breath.

Bram's hand grasped mine, prying them apart and lacing his fingers with mine, our palms pressed together. My eyes flicked down to our interlaced fingers, the flawlessness of our only slightly varied skin fitting against each other like puzzle pieces. They raised to his face, the look of determination betrayed by a glimmer of warmth. I rested my free hand against the back of his to keep myself from grabbing my bag. Even when he had no reason to break his composure, he did. He would still love me when all of this was over, I knew that with complete certainty. He'd still love me when I was no longer young and beautiful, centuries from now. He would be a good king to them.

"If you want this," I murmured, "Take it slow. There's no rushing into a full-scale war."

He smiled lightly and squeezed my hand supportively. "We have time. Trust me."

I rolled my eyes visibly. He must've known how I already did. My eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror, running appreciatively over the polished, jet-black hood of the Mercedes behind us. It was a disease among us. We loved our materials and our money as much as we loved each other. No wonder Natasha was so disgusted, Bram and I were the only break from the train. We were a mutant strain.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked while making a turn.

"Sabby needs a playmate," I lied, "She's all alone in that house."

"She has Sean." His lips were turned up at the edges that threatened a grin, maybe a laugh, but it never came. I smiled slightly, "You know what I mean. When he leaves."

He froze, the composure sliding, "About that...I might've invited him to stay for a while, since he's begun lending his services in town. He's got a job interview tomorrow with one of the leading construction companies out here."

"Oh, so we do have a child then," I teased.

He laughed openly, the sound sweeter than any morning bird song. The trees were thinning from the town, their distances farther as we crossed through the center of town. Boutiques and corner stores made up this little suburban area of Salem; there was obviously a much greater urban population on the other side. A lot of shopkeepers were rising early; cafes and hardware stores were already open. Only a few chain locations were within our trip. I could tell this was a monster town; the emphasis on tradition was lovely.  
The school was surrounded by a few more blocks of housing, cut off suddenly by a large, stone fence with an open gate. It was like the entrance to a castle, and I felt my skin prickling gleefully as we accelerated slightly. Fields spanned the range of my vision, bordered with trees that had crept up around the fence and overtaken it, dropping their seeds within the perimeter like enemy paratroopers. It felt like Belfry Prep. I closed my eyes and grinned, forcing myself to contain my enthusiasm when Bram slowed, "Shit."

My eyes opened to seeing teenagers crossing the lawn, but it wasn't that which caused a stirring of fury in the center of my chest. They were dressed normally, although a bit...grungy. Worn out leather, worn out jeans and thrift-shop hand-me-downs looked to be this crowd's consensus, backed only by their ratty backpacks and their beaten shoes. Even the girls were sights. But I could tell, even without managing to take note of the light fur on their skin and their wild hair, that they were canines. They ogled our cars like slabs of beef. "I wonder how many can strip a car," I muttered, protective of our hearse. Bram laughed once, the sound too hollow to cause any wonder at its sincerity. I was beginning to think nothing but hatred and horror would make it past the facade to our eyes. I wondered what Vinnie would say. Probably something entailing us "seeing the same sunset," or something of equal unimportance.

We pulled to a stop ahead of the others. I left my bag with the full knowledge that if we ended up in a fight, I was not cracking my phone over this. It wasn't ladylike, but all that sat on my mind for the duration of rising from the car and straightening my tie was the thought that I should've gotten a pocketknife or something of the portable weapon range. My gut tightened. _People hate and fear what they don't understand,_ I reminded myself while reaching the stone steps. The school was unimpressive compared to the founding of my palace the previous week. It was a school- surely Victorian, but still a school.

"Ugh." I heard Tiffany as she shied away from them. They watched us, and their alpha challenged us with his eyes. Not one to back down, I watched my fiancee's upper lip curl into a fierce sneer. His eyes hardened like rubies, promising violence if they dared cross him. I glanced at the gathering at the top of the stairs, taking note of one vampire, one lycan, a zombie, a mummy, a fish, a pieced-together reanimation, a yeti and a zombie. The mummy approached us, her hands outstretched. "I am Cleo, you may bestow your-"

"Just park it around back," I replied, dropping my keys into her outstretched hand, adding a _thanks_ as equally mocking as the look on Bram's face as an afterthought. She turned on her heel to look after us with offence, clutching the keys like a weapon. Well, it seemed I'd dethroned the queen already.

Quiet growls rose from the wolfen horde. I couldn't smell pheromones as they could, but I imagined it was with either hatred or envy. Walter and a few of the other males rose their heads with pride, playing off the disdain as envy. Jonas lowered slightly, making himself visible, and snarled back in a return of the hatred. Up close to them, I wasn't afraid anymore. They were half beast, half man. There was nothing special about them, nothing fearsome like the others had been. Though in their presence, I feared if I let go of the hatred, I'd be as hollow as those pretending their scorn was envy.

"Ooh, you _smell._ Maybe it's time to start using soap and water instead of just your tongues." Instantly, Bram's charm and wit was turned all the way up. A few mocking and nervous laughs rose from the others. I tried to break the tension with a small smile, backing him up as best I could, "Good one, Bram."

"Thank you, sweetheart," he replied, his lips quirking ever so slightly with cynical restraint. I caught a glimpse of Sean in him at that moment, using his dark humor to provoke them without action. It was working, though I had no idea as to what his point was for it.

Their alpha growled slightly, "You're on our turf now, got it..._vam-posers_?"

How fucking original. They laughed like it was the funniest thing in the world. I rolled my eyes without so much as amusement. Bram scoffed, taking a step forward, "Your collar's too tight. It's clearly cutting off circulation to your brain."

"I've got plenty of blood pumping through my fists," the alpha growled. I straightened up from my perch on the wall, fists balling against the insides of my elbows. They might've jumped each other had the reanimation not burst between them, grabbing them both, "Hey! Hi. If you're going to Monster High, you need to learn to get along. Take Draculaura and Clawdeen, they're best friends!"

You've got to be joking. A dog and one of us. Well wasn't this the cutest little show. The boys both sounded their disbelief while I kept my skepticism politely unsaid. The others hissed, withdrawing, drawing my attention as another wolf walked between them, silencing them. Their real alpha. Or perhaps the dogs had a pair of male alphas instead of a male and female. That would've been a pleasant plot twist. "Easy, easy. Pack, let's head inside. We don't want to cause trouble...on our first day."

My heart had a pang. He had a well-loved leather jacket in brown, as Vinnie's was in black, even a similar curl to the front of his hair. I missed him. Vinnie would've been right beside Bram in taunting the wolves, provoking them and calling out this faux greaser for a real rumble that I might've helped him in. I would've helped him in. I had genuine love for two men in the world outside my family, and Vinnie Stoker was one of them.

They passed us by and slipped inside, leaving us amassed and out of our perfect line on the steps. Jonas rose to flank me, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"You don't have to be afraid of them!" the reanimation chirped, "Monster High is a safe place!"

My irritation boiling over, I stalked up the last few steps and backed her toward the entryway with a compulsive force pausing me from entering. No one knew with equality to our reflections why we had to be invited in; my parents had first taught it as manners, but after a while I realized it was more than a reflex. It came with the territory like money and obsessive-compulsive disorder; none of us had asked, yet it had been bestowed. I couldn't tell if I was more angry at my lack of power over entering or her lack of knowledge, but the little vampire lingered behind her awkwardly. She was a pretty girl with straight, raven hair and a rosy complexion. Her eyes were hidden behind their downcast and her brimming straight, pink-streaked bangs. She looked so out of place, like a flower among weeds. "Aren't you something?" I hoped the right amount of acid crept into my tone, because the building fury felt _scalding._ "We're not scared."

"They have to be invited in," the little vampire spoke up, "Old vampire rule. Please, follow me."

My omnipresent fury began to fade when I caught sight of her eyes. They were a rich, pinkish lavender. Shiny, warm, wise and contained. I imagined them scarlet and my stomach flipped with surprise. She was beautiful regardless, beautiful and baffling. I couldn't guess her age, the wisdom in her eyes placed her as far more than her physical age. Had she been turned, or was she just a baby? She walked in a few paces and gathered her bag from the stairs, and I had to admit my distraction since I almost didn't catch Bram's speaking. "She really doesn't know anything about us, does she?"

I composed myself quickly and tried to smirk, "She'll learn."

Our guide returned to us that moment, her lily colored eyes meeting mine. I wondered if she saw in me something similar to what I saw in her, although there was a flawlessness to her that gave her much more purity than any one of us should've had. I made up my mind that she was a child before she'd even spoke again, but I knew I was wrong. I set my mind to something against my heart and I knew it wasn't right. If I'd had the time, I might've reconsidered my life choices up until then, but the mummy walked up and dropped my keys in my hand. She shot us a look of contempt as she walked up the stairs, once she turned not looking back. I glanced to Bram, fearing that either female had caught his eye- it was probably the first time he'd seen as much exotic life as this, at least I hoped since it was mine. But he was disinterested, probably more wrapped up in the insult to his pride that leaving a fight had caused. The little vampire girl righted her shouldered bag and started down the hall, her voice very quiet, "So where are you from?"

"Salem's Lot," I replied, twisting my keys to keep my nerves occupied, "Maine."

She smiled slightly, "Is it warmer in Maine?"

"No," I replied, chuckling slightly under my breath. Her shy demeanor began to change, those exotic eyes flicking back to me with the warmest hint of a deeper blush upon her cheeks. She was so human it amazed me. She couldn't have been entirely vampire, but everything about her showed me differently. She was a freak among the freaks and I wanted nothing more than to bond to her the way I had to my fiancee and my friends- we were outcasts, once, just as she surely was.

"Gory Fangtell," I said quietly, flicking a glance to Bram to see if he was going to correct me on my name. His lips quirked slightly with an unspoken challenge, but he didn't reply.

"Draculaura," she replied quietly.

I quickened my step to make myself even with her, "So you're our princess."

Her eyes went down to the floor again, cheeks warming so brightly I nearly lost control right then. She was blood-rich, more than any of us could've dreamed. I couldn't fathom the amount of blood that would take. "I'm not a princess," she muttered, tucking her hair behind her delicately pointed ear. God, the girl was so darling and demure she might as well have been half elf.

"How did you get your skin so...bright?" I murmured, touching her face. I was warmer than she, and she didn't mind my curiosity in the slightest. It made her cheeks flame but they still didn't generate enough heat to combat the touch of my skin to hers. "Iron?" she said quietly, questioningly.

I was confused. She could tell. She paused outside a door that I assumed was our final destination and glanced up to my face. The backs of my fingers still rested on her nearly fuchsia cheek. "I don't...you know."

"I know what?" I replied, letting my hand fall. For the first time, I felt stupid.

"Drink..._it._"

We stared at each other, her with expectance and I with confusion. Then she started spelling, and I just about lost it. "Blood? You don't drink _blood?_ Have you lost your mind?" It came out halfway between a statement and a shout, and her cold face only reddened. She shrugged, "It works."

"Like hell it works, you feel colder than a corpse!" I was confused and intrigued. I wanted to know what made her so different, what changed her eyes and her skin and kept her this way. What kept her alive without the proper nutrients? She straightened and took a deep breath, composing a warm smile and shrugging her shoulder, "If you want to come sit with us at lunch, I can tell you what I know."

"Just don't try to convert her," Bram teased, leaning against the door, "She ate the last vegan."

The red rushed out of her face and she peeked at me with very childlike gullibility. Warmth burned in the pit of my stomach, reminding me that I had fed and she, though blood-rich, had not. Without another word, she turned and walked the other way, leaving us to the Headmistress and further arrangements ourselves, and me to lusting after something far greater than power; real, true immortality. And Draculaura could probably unlock the key to it for us all.


	45. Chapter Forty-Five

_Chapter Forty-Five_

After leaving the Headmistress's office with our schedules and our necessary materials, we went back to the car for our bags. Ten feet from the door and he began speaking Gaelic. I didn't have to be fluent to know he was cussing like a sailor, and in a mild fury, he wrenched open the door and threw half of the papers in the back of the hearse. I tugged out my bag before he perched on the bumper. Gently, I tugged his to the edge and sat beside him, "That wasn't fair of you."

"Like hell it wasn't," he muttered.

"They didn't do anything to you. They're not the same ones."

As my hand rested on his shoulder, he rose the joint to shrug me off. It stung. His eyes rose as mine fell to the pavement. There was a muted fury in them, unnoticed to the untrained eye, but I knew him well enough. He rested his hand over mine, "I don't care. They're going to start off knowing where they belong, because I am not about to have another dog stepping out of line in my presence."

"We just went through one war," I sighed with exasperation, "don't start another one now."

His jaw set. The look of a predator overwhelmed his eyes. He was, in fact, very dangerous. Even in his worst fury, I trusted him with my life. As he rose his hand, he brushed the back of his fingers over my cheek. His tone was so much infinitely more gentle than his hard-set ruby eyes, cold and wicked. "I will never let any harm come to you ever again. I would have to kill even the innocent, then." It made my blood cold but sent a surge of warmth through my chest. I blushed, containing a smile while shaking my head slightly. He squeezed my hand in his free one, bringing it from his shoulder to lace comfortably with his. It felt almost as intimate as a kiss to the base of my throat. My lips twitched. The fury in his eyes dulled only slightly, tainted with adoration. "You are the center of my world. Don't think for a second that I wouldn't go to war for you. I would condemn the world for you. And as the heir to the Devein nobility, I have to formally declare that my royal blood prevents me from peacefully settling anything involving my bride. If I didn't fight back, I couldn't call myself a future king."

He had managed to take care of all of my worries in one sweep, just as he always did. Even if it was stupid, even if there were holes in his reasoning I was too in love with him to notice. From an outside perspective that I acknowledge, we were the villains. I was a selfish, spoiled brat with a short temper and lived in a very black-and-white world. Even then, I could only recognize my own flaws. To me, if he had any, I could live with them. He could be a monster, but it was never to me. He might've been a beast to others, but to me...he was all I had. Even in a world with friends, family and followers, Bram was the only one who had never betrayed me in some way. I would've lied if I said I wasn't waiting for the day, but as we sat, curled up together on the bumper of the hearse, I expected it to be far away if it came at all.  
He grasped my chin very gently between his thumb and index finger, guiding my lips to his. I kissed him enthusiastically, slipping my arms around his neck and breaking the hold of our fingers to bring him closer. His hand pressed, gentlemanly as always, to my lower back. This was different. His fingers twisted in my shirt, attempting to cinch it even more against my skin. My face felt warmed at the possessive crush of his lips on my own, and instinct while guiding me to fight back and attempt dominance, didn't let me. I ran my fingers through his hair, clutching his jacket with equal force. My heart was beating faster, giving me a semblance of a legitimate pulse. He drew away slowly, still stealing kisses as he picked up his bag and shut the door. Mine dropped to my feet, left there momentarily while he continued stealing kisses against the chromatic doors.

"We don't have the same first period," he muttered, finally giving purpose to his possessiveness. I pouted against his mouth, "Why?" He shrugged, stealing one more before scooping up my bag for me and placing it in my hands, "I will walk you to class."

A small knot formed in my throat, but I smiled around it, lacing my fingers through his. He warded off the onset of negativity the way others set it in. I glanced at my schedule, exhaled through my nose in frustration at seeing an Algebra Two class on my roster, and folded it into my palm. We ascended the stairs together, pausing feet from the door. "I won't be far," he murmured, "And we do have electives together." We had most of our classes together, but the ones that weren't were going to make me hate this school. I had no doubt in my mind about that. I stole another gentle kiss, squeezing his hand reassuringly, "Don't kill anyone."

He smirked, "I can't promise you that."

"I know," I replied with a wink. He grinned, squeezing my hand in return. I went toward the door, watching him head down the hall as his smile faded to a composed mask of neutrality. I tried to arrange my face in much the same expression, but found it difficult at best. Belfry Prep, everyone wore what little of a heart they had on their sleeves. Opinions were as common as a stuffed wallet, and no one took any offence to them because it was natural. It was almost right, in a strange sense, to stand out among the sea of socialites. It had worked for us, at least. I told myself that as I straightened, smirking slightly to myself with my own personal joke, and pulled open the door.

It must've been a natural instinct to look when a door was open to sense a threat, because all eyes turned at once, even the teacher's. I had to admit, I was impressed. There were no desks, only lecture-hall seating, and I smiled as my heels brushed nearly silently across the carpet to the teacher's desk. He was a middle-aged ghoul with gaunt and zombie-like features. One glance at the room and I could tell, most of these people were prey status.

"Miss Fangtell," he said in a richly Eastern European tone, "Take the seat beside Mister Jekyll."

My eyes honed in to one of few boys in the class that he was pointing to, and my jaw nearly hit the floor. The boy that was staring at me was red-faced in shock, red with blood. Blood circulating with a heartbeat that I could hear from here. My eyes widened. His jaw dropped as mine closed and I took a deep inhale on instinct. Death from the zombies, cologne from the other vampires, and sweetness from the human boy. He smelled like chocolate. Rich, warm, perfect chocolate. If I hadn't fed, I would've killed him.  
The action had only lasted a moment but between the two of us, a small infinity had passed. I ascended the stairs to his side slowly, predatory adoration dripping from my every move. He could sense it. He looked away, trying not to be terrified, but I could smell how sweeter he got with fear. I sunk into my seat without hesitation at his side, moving just a little closer to catch a proper scenting of him. He glanced at me out of the corner of his wide, blue, innocently bespeckled eyes. He had dark brown hair, rich and warm like the smell of his blood.

"Hi," he muttered after a moment of mutual staring.

"Hello yourself, handsome." I smirked, he blushed. Even though I had no intention of making a meal of him, that didn't mean I didn't want to play as if he would be.

He blushed, looking away again, "I have a girlfriend."

"Sure," I shrugged, "Because a guy like you isn't cute enough to share."

Fear, admiration, embarrassment, disbelief, joy and suspicion came to his eyes at the same time. He had such expressive eyes. Then, sudden like a whirlwind, Draculaura came dashing into the room. She handed the teacher her pass and came trotting up the stairs, pausing momentarily as she saw me and her red-faced friend. I gave a little finger wave, "Hey, precious."

She rolled her eyes, having none of my antics, and took the chair to sit between us. I didn't budge and neither did he. Defeated, she sat on my other side and successfully completed a circuit of people that I would come to genuinely want around me. Draculaura pretended not to notice my presence for a few minutes while I teased her friend in silence, nudging him and whispering sweet things in his ear until he turned red and beamed, finally replying, "Jackson. Call me Jackson."

"Jackson," I cooed, ruffling his soft hair, "You're so precious."

If he mistook the affection for romantic, he didn't let it show. He was just happy to be fawned over, and certainly adorable enough to be. But that was how I won people. Bram preferred to win with force, I preferred to win with kindness. A lot of the time, the kindness was false, but as Jackson grew on me, it became real. Draculaura finally cleared her throat, dispelling my complete attention. I glanced to her and smiled slightly, "Is this the girlfriend I heard about?"

She turned red, "No."

I could tell a lot about people from their reactions. Even if they weren't together, they'd had some kind of romantic history. He shrugged slightly; he'd probably never reciprocated the feelings in the first place. But she'd been into him quite a bit. They could've been cute together.  
The gossip I had heard a little more than a week ago entered my mind once again and I glanced to her with interest, "You're dating a werewolf, aren't you?"

Jackson's head lowered to continue taking notes, but I could tell he was listening. I'd won him already. She had the composure of a princess, no matter how much she denied it. She nodded once, scribbling down something I should've been paying attention to but didn't care enough about. "His name is Clawd, not werewolf."

"Well how would I know, I haven't met him yet," I replied. She smiled slightly, probably taking it as I was open to their relationship and actually wanted to. Truthfully, it was probably going to kill her. I hadn't wanted to get close with the possibility so strong, but the way she smiled, the enamored look of complete and utter bliss that crossed her face felt very familiar to my heart if not my mind. I hadn't realized it at the time, but I had accepted him at that moment without thought; he made her as happy as Bram made me, what did I care what sub-species he was?

We chatted like that between distractions for the duration of class. I could tell from the attention of a few surrounding zombies that I had won more hearts than I intended to in one swoop, and I had unknowingly moved a little closer to conquest.


	46. Chapter Forty-Six

_Chapter Forty-Six_

By the end of the day, I had amassed a group. While being amusing and intellectual, they were also patient and outright kind. Even though I'd seen the difference in our opinions, they tried to make it work. I left my bag in the hearse before practice, picking up my new fearleading uniform and clustering with the girls off to the side of the locker room.

Tiffany stripped rather openly, causing Blanche's cheeks to flush, "Could you not?"

"It's not her fault you haven't had a roommate in decades," Ruth teased in reply. I shook my head, trying to contain my smile. She smiled in my direction, "And meanwhile, our captain is fantasizing about her husband-to-be in the next room over."

My cheeks warmed but didn't color. She could tell anyway. Tiff and Blanche giggled, blushing to themselves. I couldn't help myself from smiling and teasing in return, "And don't even try to pretend you and Walter stay up all night discussing ways to reform the national debt."

Blanche laughed, but I got the feeling quickly that Tiff's smile was mostly to maintain composure. As I shimmied into my skirt, I rolled my eyes and swatted the hem of hers playfully, "Give it time. Someone will come along and become a very lucky man sooner or later."

She shrugged slightly. Ruth's lips twitched upward only slightly in understanding. Her eyes flicked to me as she pulled on the too-tight top, attempting to adjust it around her brasserie, "This is..."

"Ridiculous," Blanche muttered, pulling forcefully on it to make the fabric give. Tiffany laughed lightly, "That's why you never order your size."  
Apparently we were the only ones to know it, as the two other females blushed visibly. Our giggles spilled across the isle to the tiny Monster High squad- the re-animated girl, Frankie; the mummy, Cleo; the werewolf, Clawdeen and Draculaura. I clasped my lock on the tiny square locker and glanced back toward them, meeting Draculaura's floral eyes. She smiled, glancing to the floor.

"Now she's pretty," Tiffany commented, smoothing her bouncy curls. Blanche clasped up her short, lustrous locks against the base of her skull, glancing over to the shorter female and shrugging, "If you're open to interspecies breeding, maybe."

Tiffany rose a brow as if it was news to her.

"She's with a werewolf," Ruth replied, leaning around Blanche to inform her. I caught Draculaura's eyes falling to the tile, dressing in silence. I headed around the bench, escaping the trio of gossips, and flicked her pigtail as I walked by. She glanced to me in surprise as I passed. I turned, smirking, "You'd look better with a braid, _princessa."_

She flushed delicately, turning away. A part of me reveled in the ability to cause such a reaction when the girls I knew were so aloof; then again, they hardly held my attention to begin with. I slipped out into the gym, tracing the room with my eyes while pushing up my glasses. A pair of boys lingered on the bleachers, one dressed for basketball and the other in his worn leather. I leaned on the railing, watching the both of them talk. From what I gathered in a few sentences, the basketball player was Draculaura's fabled boyfriend. He certainly looked wolfish, though he had a kind sparkle in his amber colored eyes. Dark brown would've better suited him. Everything else about him, from the nature-smell of his blood in his veins to the curly hair atop his head, was warm in the way his eyes could've been. Even then, they weren't a light amber, they were deep and rich, twinkling with amusement. Amusement easily broken by Bram and a few of the others entering the room.

I hardly made acquaintance with the boys of Belfry Prep- intellectual boys were different than rich boys. Bram, Walter, and even Jonas in a strangely insane way, were intellectuals. A lot of the other boys were just rich, wasting their time and their money on education they'd never put to use. I recognized two from pep rallies of the past. I'd pegged them once as the insider type, and it seemed I was right. It was with complete happiness I noticed how they followed Bram as if he perpetrated their religion. I couldn't recall a time I'd seen him play off the top of my mind, but he must've been good to earn their respect. He smirked slightly, crossing the room to me with his followers trailing after him when Clawd rose and tossed him the ball. He turned, catching it. I imagined he had a quirked brow and an expression of polite surprise, but then again I doubted he'd be civil.

"Let's get warmed up and we can start practice," the wolfen boy said, rather friendly and used to a position of team cooperation. Bram looked from the ball to him, and I could hear the superiority in his tone, "No thanks. We'll play on the other side." The other side, away from _him._ Of course, the entire team hadn't showed, but we didn't expect other cheerleaders to either. Bram passed it to one of the other boys, silently dismissing them before completing the walk over to me and pulling me in close with an appreciative little purring growl. He kissed my lips firmly before placing another soft kiss partway down my neck, "I like this on you." His index finger brushed the exposed trail of skin below my collarbone, leading to the slightly low V of my neckline, "Black is nice on you."

I could've pointed out the odd white and purple trim or the disgustingly girly ruffle on the edge of my skirt, but he pressed closer and chased the thoughts away. I blushed, nuzzling into him and placing a love bite of my own possessively over his pulse. He grinned, squeezing my hip appreciatively. His skin reddened where my fangs had irritated it, leaving an attractive little bruise on his flawless skin. "It's nice on you too," I murmured, kissing the spot tenderly. It did look nice on him; he looked delicious. I traced my fingers over his collarbone, bringing a little flush to his cheeks, and leaned upward to nip his lower lip teasingly. He captured my mouth in a warm, obliging kiss before catching my hands and kissing either palm quickly. He winked, stepping back, only slightly wiping my lipstick from his lips before returning to his team. The taste of a drop or two of his blood made the inside of my mouth sweet. I tossed my hair slightly, brimming with happiness.

"That is one hell of a man," Ruth said, appearing at my side when she knew she was wanted.

I beamed, "I know." The other two joining us was only enough to break us from paying the boys attention. Clawd Wolf seemed perfectly at ease skipping practice to hang out with the alpha. Bram was showing up the other boys with a competitive edge that applied to much more than sports, and it was wounding their pride. The alpha, Romulus, didn't seem so in-hatred of us as we had been of them. In fact, he kept throwing glances at Draculaura as if he had a chance. Finally, Tiff nudged me and brought my attention back to the tiny circle of the other monster cheerleaders, and I nodded. We shifted from our places against the bleachers and joined them. I clapped my hands to catch their attention, "Alright, cut the chatter. Time for practice. Now...line up for drills?"

"Gory, is it?" Cleo replied, stepping up as if she were about to get in my face, "Who got mummified and made you leader?"

"Well, I'm the captain of the number one team anywhere," I replied. Sure, I hadn't been captain long, but I had to be in the position for a reason.

"I'm captain of the number one team _everywhere,_" she snapped in return. Very mature, Cleo. "I'm the leader."

She was about to have a temper tantrum and it was adorable. Her powder-blue eyes were narrowed at the corners, fists balled as if she were about to stamp her foot. I smirked, glancing toward Draculaura, "Then why don't we put it to a vote? All in favor of me..."

She didn't raise her hand. My smile fell slowly, then all at once. I stepped toward her and circled her slowly, a decision I later came to regret. "You don't vote for your own kind? Vamp-stabbing traitor."

She took offence to my words instantly, but more along the line of the hurt in her eyes causing guilt to bubble in my chest. It wasn't fair that I liked her. She was a freak, and she'd hurt my reputation, but she didn't care. She didn't care that she had a place of status, she just wanted to be happy. And she was, from what I saw. Most girls only dreamed of being happy with themselves the way she was. Cleo wasted no time getting her tally, one of which was Draculaura. Her friend, the re-animation, attempted to play peacemaker for a second time. I rose my chin in defiance, meeting the mummy's eyes and silently vowing to pull her wrapping off at any opportunity. Neither of us moved to break our tie. Neither of us moved to lead the others in any form of practice, we simply stared each other down until someone surrendered. Frankie shifted uncomfortably. Draculaura finally broke her stillness and sighed, "Gory, please don't."

I didn't budge. It was my turn to be stubborn and she'd have to deal with it. She caught Cleo's arm, forcing her surrender. And with that, I straightened and glanced to the others, "Go tell the other girls how it will be, won't you?"

"We don't have a very big squad-" Frankie began quietly, seeming to forget she was pointing out the obvious.

"Of course, because four is just an astronomical number," I replied, heading for the basketball court and my fiancee. His skin was slightly flushed with warmth, a little sweat beading against his skin and trailing luxuriously over his muscles. My irritation was soothed almost instantly. He sunk another basket, stepping back just close enough to receive the breeze from my fanning hand. He broke into a wide, welcoming grin and kissed my cheek, "Thank you, sweetheart."

"Five minute break," one of the guys panted.

"Yeah," another seconded, "Not even Dewey pushed us this hard."

"Dewey's not here, is he?" Bram replied. They deflated, but he caught the ball and sunk it into a metal bin of others. "Go, before I change my mind."

I didn't even know how long we'd been in the gym, but he turned and tugged me down as he dropped to the floor. I giggled, lowering myself to his side and wrapping my arms supportively around his neck. "How was practice?"

He shrugged, his breathing still warm and rough. The soft brush of his fingers over my spine almost transferred his warmth to me. My eyes flickered up long enough to take notice of the utter burn of Clawd introducing Draculaura to his friend as his. Bram nudged me gently, smiling with open delight, "What are you so happy about?"

I brought myself a little closer to him before placing a soft kiss to his jaw, nuzzling his flushed skin slightly. "You," I murmured, "I'm always happy with you."


	47. Chapter Forty-Seven

_Chapter Forty-Seven_

The center of the world could've been that little school, but things were rather uneventful there. I had my classes I cared for and the ones I despised and I hardly paid attention in any of them, and there was sports and theatre and returning home to Sean and Sabby. Our first night home seemed to set a precedent for the rest. I immediately went home and got online, spent a while socializing and preparing things for the wedding, then came dinner and Sean's arrival home and a few leisure hours before we did our homework and went to bed. A natural flow had begun, in days of dominating the attention Cleo had once controlled and taking up a natural place in the upper hierarchy. Though it was quite easily I had to admit, Monster High was one of the few places in the world it seemed social status didn't matter. Anyone could've found just as much happiness in popularity as they did in isolation. I never liked popularity contests. They were always rigged so the intelligent never won. Within a few days, I had decided that Monster High wasn't even based around a hierarchy; there were the girls whose parents had become cinema-famous and therefore they were a bit more talked about than the others, but they had their own circles and other circles contained themselves among the school. Most of the inner crowd hardly had money to their name as it was. They were gloriously middle-class and genuinely, almost heartbreakingly, happy.

Though for the sake of vampiric reputation, I hesitated to even tell Bram that my falling-in with the zombies was more than a lust for power. Ghoulia especially was smart, funny and ran a killer blog. The longer we remained in Monster High, the more afraid of my own status I became. I was high school nobility, I was privileged and didn't need to be there but was anyway. The least I might as well have done was rule the school like a Countess of my own right. More often than not, though, the isolated moments with the girls deemed my followers were spent laughing and talking about books and their characters, dissecting their plots and recommending things for each other to read. When Bram discovered my step-down from nobility, he had simply smiled and shook his head, joining us at one of our many library hideouts over lunch. It was increasingly perfect. His arm draped lovingly over my shoulders, glinting eyes full of knowledge and the occasional excited smile breaking his features, he was as happy as I was. Over the course of giggled inside jokes and "Strawberry Julius" shared among my inner circle, I tried to expand it outward a bit more into a politically acceptable- by others and myself- direction: Draculaura.

"-And the goddamned dog just _growled_ at her." The incident he explained to Sean sounded a little exaggerated. I rolled my eyes, cutting and stabbing a piece of steak, "Have you ever been stepped on by heels?"

Bram glanced to me, raised a brow and looked back down to his plate, "I am not about to answer that. I know you, Gory. You'll make sure I do and never criticize another werewolf again."

"I'm not defending the werewolf, I'm defending the reflex. You snore." My teasing nearly made Sean choke on his pasta. Bram rolled his eyes, "You never sit still."

"Oh, the two of you are married already." Sean raised his glass to his mouth, chuckling to himself as if he'd just cracked the best joke he'd heard in years. It was my turn to mirror Bram and roll my eyes. My phone buzzed on the table, welcoming me back to the outer world. I tapped my selecting button twice, quickly before skimming my text from Draculaura. _Busy tomorrow?_

"Secret lover?" Sean teased. I stuck out my tongue, "Draculaura." _Would you like to make me?_  
Even I had to admit she was just too cute to resist teasing a little. In honesty, Draculaura and Jackson were rivaling for my best friend. Vinnie teased me about it since I'd told him about them, but he knew how important he still was, even afar.

_Don't flirt with me :P_ She'd replied. I smiled but didn't have time to laugh out loud, her second message following quickly. _Just bring the other vampires. We're having a party at the cemetery tomorrow evening._

"Hm." Cemetery parties. Well, they had convinced me to say the very least. Bram glanced up, making my eyes glint with excitement I didn't know I had. "Graveyard party?"

"When?" he replied, gathering up the last of his pasta on his fork.

"Tomorrow evening. Draculaura and her friends are hosting."

"Why not have the party here?" Sean asked, gesturing to the grand room around us, "Party at Gatsby's!"

I laughed, clasping my hands together with my phone between them and shot Bram an eager glance. He rolled his eyes, "No. If for no other reason than I don't want you hitting on the myriad of underage girls sure to be in attendance."

"I'll behave," Sean replied, "I'll even stay upstairs with Sabby." I doubted that highly. Bram seconded the thought, shifting his head to his hand and propping his elbow on the edge of the table, "I have a poem for you, brother dear."

"There once was a man from Nantucket?" Sean teased. He mimicked the action exactly, his tone as light and teasing as his personality. I resisted the urge to lean forward and observe them like a scientist would herds of giraffe.

"Roses are red, violets are violet, I was not talking to you, now put a sock in it."

I smirked, shaking my head slowly as I lifted my phone and typed a quick reply. _We'll be there._

...

Logged in to my IM, my blog and my social network, I typed up a quick composition of my point of view during and after the revolution. It had been easy; my family hadn't even gotten over to the States yet. Of course, it hadn't taken us long after that point to make it there, but at the time a war in the colonies had been the least of our problems. My composition read more like an action novel than a high-school literature piece. I wondered, vaguely, if I could get bumped up a grade for this...

The gentle beeping chime of my IM caught my attention, but I let the little orange circle bounce over the icon for a moment while I wrapped up my sentence. Draculaura's icon, or lack there of, popped up for me instantly. _You need to see this.  
_I would've teased her about being hacked had the link not been to Tiffany's profile. I hadn't pegged her for a gossip, so it must've been good. The moment I went to see, though, I regretted it instantly.  
The status had been hidden to keep it from my stream, and I wasn't sure what set me back first: her words or the supportive and equally, if not more, degrading comments. Behind the window, I could see parts of her messages. _I'm sorry. I'd rather you see it from me. You don't have to deal with them, Gory. Jackson told me how special you are to him. You're his first real friend, probably one of the zombies' too. If the party wasn't so important, we could blow it off for movies in Ghoulia's basement or something. Wanna do that too? Gory?_ Every few seconds, it was a new one. They were the opposite of the grating, catty remarks from the extended...formerly extended squad.

_Making the nerd queen captain was the best thing I've ever done. Nationals here we come.  
Please, not if you have her on your squad. Apparently Latin isn't Latino enough to know how to move.  
Impressive choreography, I'll admit, but have you seen her at parties? Dancing like my grandma- literally.  
I wouldn't be surprised if she lured in the babe with some peppermint candy or something.  
Oh please, she has to have money with that brain of hers, why else would he marry her?  
You know what they say about the quiet girls. Freak in the sheets, probably.  
She's already a freak, and we're freaks enough for humans to want to _kill.  
_Not even a human would go there. Except that other nerd. Now he might be in her league.  
No, still too cute.  
Don't you mean everybody's too cute?  
"Queen." Right. Because we really care._

I swallowed so hard it was painful. My breath was shaking, my hands were shaking. I didn't finish reading, I couldn't. My eyes were burning and there was a haze of liquid on the edge of my vision that I didn't dare blink to bat away. I knew I'd cry. I saved the part of my paper I had done before logging quietly out of my blog and making a quick comment to reply to them all, pushing the shock and scalding rejection aside to find the last ounce of my pride and cling to it like a balloon string. _None of you will be at nationals. I'm still your captain, whether you accept me as your queen or not, and all of you are off my squad._  
I signed off after posting it, closing out to leave myself with Draculaura. She'd sent my name a few more times, a joke, a silly fact, things she surely expected to make me smile. Finally, the last message had been a bit later and when I clicked the link, a pretty and somber instrumental trickled from my speakers. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, raising myself in my chair and steeling myself once again. _I'm sorry I ever called you a traitor._ I was. She wasn't, she was more loyal than they were. Maybe I'd known from the start, I'd surely expected it after she preferred her boyfriend over popularity with us. It was an admirable trait that I knew well. Maybe if I hadn't-

No. I was not going to finish the thought, I wasn't even going to let it register fully in my mind. Bram was loyal to me and I was to him. If I lost everyone else in the world, I had him. And he hadn't even logged on his profile in...months? A year? He had his family on there, he hated it. Draculaura kept IMing, but I set down my laptop and rose from the couch in the den and crossed the entryway to the kitchen where the Devein brothers put away the remainders of dinner. I studied Bram for the longest time as if trying to break the facade of perfection or the veil of my love. He was as different from them as he could ever be. He teased his brother and was teased in return, smiles breaking both of their faces. Despite conflicting, they genuinely cared for each other. Maybe they were as real and flawless as they were to me.

Bram took a glance over his shoulder, pausing when he saw me. I smiled, the contentment of his face repairing the pain just a little. It was terrifying to be completely reliant on someone, even more terrifying when the mind presented doubt. But as Sean turned, attempting to balance a spoon on his nose without help to Bram's sudden and beautiful laughter, I knew I didn't have to be. He batted it down into Sean's hands, only a human's heartbeat of silence passing between the brothers before Sean pulled him in and began messing up his hair. People were wrong when they said there was a celestial limit to the experience of life. The outer world was cruel and unkind, but at times, units popped up of people genuinely worthy of humanity. This, his...my immature older brother and my fiancee, was ours.


	48. Chapter Forty-Eight

_Chapter Forty-Eight  
Quick A/N- I don't feel like I'm being up to par yesterday and today, so I'm sorry. I've had a busy weekend (it was gorgeously busy though; C2E2 and all) and now I'm sick. So just bare with me, I should be back to normal tomorrow._

The most lovely thing about having genuine friends was how easily revenge was executed. Before leaving the school for the party the next day, I waited around with the zombies to catch the horrified looks and at times, too-dramatic cries of shock at the mutilation of fabric inside their lockers. Ruth had been the only one to escape my wraith from her lack of involvement, something that she kept up as she simply looked away from them. I smirked to myself, clasping my bag and shutting my locker forcefully. It drew attention from the over-reacting females and non-participants. But I couldn't help noticing that a few of the monsters I didn't know were grinning. The zombies trailed after me, close enough to deter the girls from trying to inflict revenge of their own, but not close enough to betray our friendship. Tiffany, fuming, held scraps of her fearleading uniform in her hand and threw them to the tile, crushing them under the heel of her shoe, "This isn't over, Fangtell."

"Of course it isn't," I replied, "That's only part one."

She froze, her murderous glare following me to the door. I linked my arm through Bram's, the wicked smirk I'd been holding back finally slipping out. "There's more?" he murmured.

I laughed in time with our steps, "I haven't decided yet. It'll certainly put them on edge, won't it?"

He shook his head, grasping my free hand and raising it to his lips gently. "Cara mia, you are as evil as you are lovely."

Moanica waved slowly as we parted ways. I flashed her a genuinely contented smile, releasing my hold on Bram to slip in the car. He fetched the door and his own, sighing softly while dropping his bag into the back of the hearse, "I'm exhausted."

"Do you want to skip the party?" I murmured, tapping the screen of my iCoffin to awaken the mirror and reapply my gloss. He shook his head, "I have a composition due Monday. All the procrastination I can get in order will be used for a good purpose."

I smiled, exiting the app when I'd deemed my face decent enough to be presentable. After I'd tucked away my cosmetics, he reached over the gearshift and grasped my hand in his. I returned his hold with a gentle squeeze, tearing my eyes from my bag to him, "Is something bothering you?"

He shrugged. "I still can't believe that they would do such a thing. It's sneaky and underhanded, even for a bunch of teenage vampires."

I smiled, "It's a surprise they got as far as they did." It was true; they tried to dethrone me, but he had been left untouched. People were genuinely afraid of Bram and his status. At the very least, they had revered indifference toward him, something that I intended to inflict myself. He glanced to me, the corner of his lips turning upward, "I can see it in your eyes. You plan on torturing them tenfold what they've done to you."

My fingers laced a bit tighter through his, our eyes meeting while the sun was cut brutally from around the car. "I wonder if your brother can get us some torture devices before he leaves for Ireland. Anything your father isn't using..."

His eyes were glinting darkly, fixated on me instead of the road. For the sake of us both, I kept my gaze flicking between the road and the wicked glittering of excitement in his ruby eyes. "Slow down if you must," I murmured, "Otherwise you'll kill us both."

He pulled off entirely, putting the car in park and reaching out to tug me just a bit closer, "You have no idea what wicked thoughts you put in my head."

I touched his chin, guiding his lips to mine, "I do, but I meant to use them their more practical purposes beforehand..." He heard none of it, crushing his lips to mine with the violence of a man starved for affection. I giggled, pressing my hands to his chest. "Shh. We have to go drop in before we get to the party."

"Want to escape off to a mausoleum later?" he murmured, pressing several warm kisses to my pulse. I ran my fingers through his hair, drawing him back before kissing him in affirmation. A delighted smile crossed his features, seeming to awaken him from his politely contained emotions. We could both play that role well; kind indifference, polite interest, the laws of nobility. The unmasked fury in his eyes lusted for revenge almost as badly as I had. My fingers ran gently over his arm, leaning in closer to him to murmur, "And if you behave yourself, maybe I'll let you get away with more when we get back."

He turned the wheel slightly and applied the gas, returning us on a quicker course back to the estate. According to the clock, we wouldn't have long before the party, but we stopped off anyway. I took our bags upstairs and changed into better shoes, completely unsurprised when he joined me. "Sean's going out. We'll be fending for ourselves when we get back."

"Was he going out, or did you kick him out with intent to fully christen the house?" I teased, clasping the strap of my shoe in place.

"Maybe a bit of both?" he murmured, stealing a kiss while changing his shirt. I couldn't help myself from glancing over my shoulder to him and beating him downstairs. Sean was examining his jacket in the shiny surface of the toaster. In the few weeks he'd been here, he'd allowed his hair to begin growing out, and the somewhat able-to-style locks were in a casual disarray. I rolled my eyes, "You look like a freshman in high school."

"That's the point," he replied. I froze with an apple in my hand, "What?"

He broke into a grin, leaning in to kiss my cheek before swiping his keys off the counter, "Party at Gatsby's."

I stared after him in shock, my eyes wide and jaw slack until I shook my head and dispelled the surprise. "You little shit," I muttered, even though by now he surely couldn't hear me. I wandered out to spot his car already heading down the road, increasing speed as it disappeared. Bram's quiet steps descended the stairs, "Sean leave already?"

"Remember when you told him not to go hit on our classmates?" I replied, turning to close his cufflinks for him, "I'm ninety percent sure he went to go do just that."

Bram paused, raising his brow curiously. Mirroring the thought with a tight-lipped smile, I let the words sink in just a bit. He laughed out loud, "Well...in that case, let's go catch up to him."  
Sabby was fast asleep on the chair, completely ignoring us. I went over to kiss her tiny wet nose before slipping out to the sound of her content purrs. Fortunately there was a main cemetery in Salem and it didn't take us long to be there, but Sean was nowhere in sight. For a moment, we hoped he wouldn't be causing trouble, but when we spotted the sheer volume of other cars, we knew the hope had been in vain. Still, I glanced to him and ducked out to meet the rest of our companions just in case. Sean's car was parked up against the fence in front, but despite its obvious placement, it was empty. The inside gate was ordinary enough, save for quiet stereo music. I waited for Bram to join me before approaching it. Just beyond the crest of a man-made hill was a downward-sloping valley dotted with mausoleums and peppered in gravestones, the very center of which the pathways around the yard met in a cobblestone circle. That center had been constructed into a tiny carnival, complete with food and entertainment. Unfortunately, no one moved from their respective circles. Not even when we walked down onto the stone-plated ground to join Draculaura and her boyfriend. "Killer party," I commented, hoping at least partially that my teasing didn't hurt her. She smiled slightly, more tense than relieved. Bram kept his distance from her boyfriend, but I watched them in silence. Clawd's friend glowered at Jonas, who hissed in return. Growls trickled through them fluidly. I scowled, shifting to cross my arms over my chest, "Seen a cute blond guy around?"

Bram attempted not to laugh and barely made it. Lala shot me a sideways glance, shrugging before her friend shooed her out on the dance floor with her boyfriend. Under the scrutiny of the pack and our followers, they looked the most uneasy I had ever seen the pair be. Though, with a roll of her strong, amethyst eyes, the yeti girl stalked forward, grabbed a vampire and a werewolf and threw them together. I almost laughed out loud. There she continued, over and over until her friends aided her and the dancing space became filled. Finally, among the cluster of people, we spotted Sean in the crowd. He grabbed one of the two werecat girls and then her sibling, dancing with them both.

"I have to admit, your brother's ambitious," I muttered.

He smiled, "Boys will be boys." With our fingers lacing together, Bram tugged me out onto the floor, "How long has it been since we waltzed?"

I broke into a beaming grin, "Hours."

I wasn't surprised when Cleo and her boyfriend rushed out to try to show us up. I did feel bad for him, though. He was trying. My attention returned where it was needed rather quickly, dancing a long dance with Bram before branching off to Draculaura and he to fetch Sean.

"So," I shouted over the music, "Killer party."

Draculaura laughed and took my hand, "I almost thought it was going to be literal!" My arm brushed a fuzzy one. I didn't pay it any mind, not for her sake.


	49. Chapter Forty-Nine

_Chapter Forty-Nine_

The weather was warm that weekend. While the girls from Belfry Prep went to the gym and obsessed over their vanity, I spent my morning tending to the seedlings of my freshly grown plants and the upkeep of the estate. It was about noon when both of the boys were fully awake, the sound of clanging swords rising from the yard. The doors to the den were slightly cracked, allowing the spring air to circulate. Not too warm and not too cold, the world outside felt as perfect as the world inside was beginning to. I brought a pair of books I was working through outside, perching on top of the fireplace and leaning partially over the fence, only to be joined by Sabby before I'd fully settled in.

Sean and Bram were dueling in the grass, the longswords polished and recently sharpened. Sean's tough, muscular build was exposed without his shirt, but Bram countered with elegance of his own in an Irish rugby jersey. Their denim pants were already scuffed and stained with the rich green phosphates from the grass, lending to my wondering of how long they'd been at this. Sabbath purred and stretched across my lap, pawing my breasts before curling into a ball against my stomach, shielding herself from the sun in the hunch of my shadow. I watched them for a few minutes before returning to my books, absently stroking her silky fur while enjoying the warm air over my skin. It was a nice enough day to continue wearing skirts, though this one was a bit shorter than my usual and white with brown embroidered flowers. I'd had it for decades, and I loved it to death; it was probably of equal importance as Bram's jersey was to him. Call it cultural character flaws, but Italian girls had their fancy clothes and Irish men had sports. The exact problem that led to their duel.

"Just call it!" Sean shouted, his sword clanging harshly against Bram's and drawing me from my book.

"Sean, if you dismember my fiancee, I'm going to make you wish you'd been fighting me," I called over.

He laughed, hardly distracted enough for Bram to get the upper hand. He did anyway, catching his brother's hand across the back of his knuckles. He dropped his sword in raising his hand to his mouth. Bram picked them up, gesturing to him with the tip and sheathing both in his belt. Sean flipped him the bird, sucking the blood from his ivory skin like a pup nursing a disciplinary bite from its mother. My fiancee crossed the lawn and leapt agilely over the fence. Where he missed the potted plants, I doubted his brother would, and glanced to Sean until he walked up to the gate like a proper being. Bram smirked, catching my chin and bringing me into a warm kiss. "Well, how was that?"

"Amusing," I teased, "A hundred points for Gryffindor."

He laughed and rolled his eyes, "Please. I'm completely Slytherin."

I shook my head and ran my fingers slowly over Sabbath's thick fur. The faint sound of a car pulling up stirred my attention only slightly and escaped Bram entirely. He climbed up on the stone beside me, wrapping his arm around my torso and murmuring into my ear, "What are you reading?"

"_The Countess_," I murmured. Stealing a glance over my shoulder, I barely contained a smirk and nudged his hand away from my throat. "You remind me a little of Ferenc."

He shifted just slightly, resting his chin on my shoulder to read over my shoulder, "God I hope you like him in this version."

Grasping his hand, I guided it down over my heart and laced our fingers together there. I placed a kiss to the inside of his forearm, finishing my paragraph before murmuring against his skin. "Violent with passion, at times absent, intelligent, noble, strong, loved by all and hated by few. They framed her for his murder, you know."

He nodded against my shoulder, purposefully bringing himself a bit closer, "You know, I'm starting to agree with my brother. You are a lot like her." I swallowed to resist the temptation that was being presented to me, licking my lips to restore the lost hydration of my lips. He was obviously reading along the same lines of where I was, and with each brutal act of the blood countess, he placed soft, warm, hungry kisses to my neck with growing firmness that threatened to displace my books and the resting kitten. I turned over the corner of the page, skipping the last sentence entirely to allow his boiling blood to cool, not that I wanted it to.

"We have guests," I reminded him, leaning back to kiss him. He crushed his mouth onto mine, tugging my back against his chest so closely I could feel every rippling contour of muscle. How he expected me to resist was beyond me. I dropped my book in my lap, arching backward into his grip to continue kissing him with all the enthusiasm I could pull forth. Sabbath grew irritated of the both of us, mewing as she leapt off and darted back into the house without question. He pulled away sharply, already in front of me before my eyes had fully blinked. The books thumped, forgotten, to the stone beneath us. "Sean's gone to get them," he murmured, "he can entertain for a moment."

My arms snaked around his neck as I silenced him. He pulled my body forcefully against his, colliding our chests and hips more quickly than I'd anticipated. My fingers ran through his hair, slowly tracing over the back of his neck. The brush of my nails made him shudder and sink his fangs into my lower lip. I gasped, winding my fingers in his hair and tugging gently. We might've gone farther, but the sounds of quiet snarling reached the both of us at last. Bram drew back, his ruby eyes darting toward the house. I pulled my lower lip into my mouth between my teeth and hopped down, scooping up my books and going toward the den. With a few repairing traces of my tongue across my lower lip, the blood stopped flowing. I abandoned the books on the table and followed Sean's low, hostile tone. Sabbath was purring, though, from the same location. I rose a brow in genuine surprise, dusting myself off before stepping into the main hall, "What's going on?"

Draculaura and a few of her friends stood on the threshold, the fish girl and the werewolf. And while Sean growled at Clawdeen, Sabbath was rubbing on her legs and purring. Draculaura was flushed pink, her eyes wide and defensive. I glanced to Sean, "Go put a shirt on before she cuts out your heart."

"You're letting a dog in," he growled, "Who knows if it has fleas."

I leaned on the railing, staring at him with irritation, "If she doesn't, I might."

He eyed me as if I'd betrayed him, starting up the stairs but not before audibly snapping, almost directly in my face, "Well _someone's_ on their period today." He took a few steps before adding in a quieter but no less audible tone, "Bipolar little shit."

I snapped quickly in the Gaelic I'd picked up from Bram. I hoped I'd told him to fuck off. I must've, because his steps actually faltered and I saw the hint of a smile on his face. Honestly, I wasn't happy with the unannounced arrival, not the company. Werewolves, while dangerous, were also good allies. They had served our people before, so I wasn't exactly opposed to the Wolf family as much as I was the others. They had cohabited the same living space as Draculaura for quite some time, they were surely much better behaved than the pack.

"This place is amazing," Draculaura said, breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence.

"You'd probably be surprised to know that moron led a small army in building it," I replied, breaking into a slight smile. As infuriated as Sean could be, sometimes, at the very least it was sibling fury. I had to admit, Sean was a decent brother when he behaved. She walked around the entryway, caressing the craftsmanship with her eyes. Her friends stepped in a bit more, Lagoona glancing sheepishly around while Clawdeen glanced over the finery with open approval. "I like it better than your place, La. You can't walk five feet in there. At least these guys have their priorities straight."

I contained my nerdy thought only to have my fiancee voice it for me. "It helps to have reading light everywhere. Draculaura, darling as ever." He smiled cordially, crossing the room to her and taking both of her hands. He kissed her knuckles respectfully, glancing over her shoulder to her friends, "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting the ladies personally."

She seemed infinitely more at ease with him than she was with me. I couldn't stop myself from smiling; that cunning, manipulative, lying bastard. How I love him. "This is Lagoona Blue and Clawdeen Wolf. They live on Radcliffe with me. Lagoona's the captain of the swim team and Clawdeen's president of the fashion entrepreneur club."

"A werewolf with a business mind," Sean said from over the railing.

"Didn't you have somewhere to be, Sean?" Bram said, his tone coldly casual.

"I thought so myself, then I realized you had a princess in the living room."  
Draculaura bristled. I gestured toward the den, allowing her to lead the way. As soon as they were out of his sight, I dove into the house and its features, earning the murmurs of approval from the triad. Bram followed closely behind, pausing at the door with his hand on my lower back. He had already won her over, likely for his own potential political gain, now it was my turn. I knew just how difficult it could prove to be. We had obviously overestimated ourselves, though, as I heard a delighted squeak escape her, "You're reading the _Argeneau_ series?!"

My eyes widened instinctively and I breezed around the side of the couch to sink into an adjacent chair, beaming, "Of course! I've already finished the latest two. It's amazing, isn't it?" She nodded eagerly, picking it up and clutching it to his chest as if it held scriptures. "What do you think of Vincent?"

Clawdeen rolled her eyes like she'd heard a bit too much too often. It only made me smile even more. Bram took up the other chair, clicking on the news and settling in with Sabbath on his lap. It felt very much like a scene from The Great Gatsby. Draculaura began in on the book and its characters, leaving not a shadow of doubt in my mind. Countess or no Countess, I had a really amazing best friend.


	50. Chapter Fifty

_Chapter Fifty_

We all saw the same sunset. It was the truest idea ever spoken in literature or otherwise. When you got older, you understood. Some people took longer to understand than others, but with the more exposure to suffering, the more the understanding grew. Monster High was putting that wisdom to the test. For the first time, I had friends outside of vampirism. Under an unspoken vampiric code, they were to be below us. We were the utmost superiority, and I knew that. That didn't mean that I didn't want to enjoy better company.

"I don't see why it's a big deal now," I replied to Bram on Monday morning while I dressed for school, my computer screen acting as my mirror thanks to the talented Ghoulia Yelps. "I never spent time with them at Belfry Prep. They're nothing but peasantry with designer labels."

He rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the bathroom, his damp bangs sticking slightly to his forehead. I drew back from applying my mascara to brush them away. He smiled openly, "Your eyes are getting better."

I smiled in reply, "My new friends are trying to experimentally cure more than contagious diseases, you know."

The regal front melted just a little more. He clasped my hand in his own and pressed it over his heart, stealing a kiss from my unpainted lips, "I'm so glad."

"You don't have to hang out with them either," I murmured, "You never know what friends you'll develop."

He laughed, withdrawing to finish getting ready, "I have made friends outside the vampires, actually. Men don't have the same friendships as you girls, you know. We have people we talk to about sports and work and masculine things."

I laughed out loud, smudging the edges with practiced grace and slipping my glasses on. I looked amazing. I felt even better, for reasons involving my own reflection and state of living. He cleaned up and I watched in the mirror while glazing my lips in red. The smooth muscles of his back flexed as he pulled on a shirt, twitching my lips upward at one corner. I stared at my own reflection and for the first time, became transfixed with my own beauty. We looked good together, he and I. Raven's wing hair and platinum plated gold, ivory skin with just a touch of a sun-belt undertone against skin more white than snow. I wondered how I'd never noticed how beautiful we both were.

He brushed my hair back, gathering it in a short ponytail at the nape of my neck to press a kiss nearby, his ruby eyes flicking upward to stare at us both as I had been. "Do you finally see what I have been seeing all this time?"

I nodded slightly. With our faces so close, I noticed every detail. Every compliment of his face to mine and vice versa. We were, in actuality, a beautiful couple. Like royalty, as if we'd been selected to match each other in physicality instead of intellect. "Maybe you are my Ferenc," I murmured, lacing my fingers with his.

He chuckled, tapping my laptop mouse to close the app before glancing to me, "Our children will be several pedigrees more lovely than any ordinary Hungarian baby."

I shook my head, feeling the warm rush of blood under my skin and adjusted my hair, "I'll be right there."

"Sean's already left for work," he replied. I glanced back to our bed where Sabbath had taken up residence, her toys strewn about and the duvet batted into a nest of her own. She was sound asleep, content to have the house to herself, yet the thought of getting her a companion of some sort still lingered in my mind. The very least I had to do was get her a treat for her good behavior while we were away. It must've been hard on her without Mum and Dad to keep her company all day. Then again, maybe it wasn't. I had never been a cat, I wouldn't know.

I kissed her ebony face and descended the stairs, leaving the door ajar for her to come and go during the day as she pleased. I hadn't put much thought into it since Vinnie had left, but apparently he and Natasha and Charlie were living in the house and enjoying it quite a bit. It left quite a bit of space for guests that didn't stay and family we hadn't taken in. One day, Sean would return to Ireland and leave us alone. It wasn't altogether a bad idea, but it was nice to have someone else to talk to. Someone else to interact with. I entered the kitchen, propped up my bag and checked through it to make sure everything was there before preparing a quick breakfast- a toasted bagel with Nutella and jam, and an espresso for the road. Bram glanced over, partly as if he was sensing my thoughts and partially as if he were disgusted with my food choices. I couldn't help but smirk as I raised it and bit in.

"It's chocolate and fruit," he replied as if the idea repulsed him.

"Chocolate and strawberry," I corrected. After swallowing the bite in my mouth, I raised a brow slightly, "It's no different than what you consider romantic on Valentine's day."

"There's a difference. There's no nuts and no preservatives."

I rolled my eyes, "Live a little." After all, we only had a month and a half left of school or so. The realization made me pause and throw a glance over my shoulder to the calendar at the wall. I broke into a little smile and glanced to him, but he pretended he didn't know what I was so happy about. We ate together in silence, the chirping of birds outside enough to content us both. I glanced out the doors, watching a morning dove settle in on the fence and begin warbling until it was joined by another.

"They mate for life," he said quietly, observing the birds as I was, "They probably have a nest nearby."

"Careful, I'll start collecting pigeons like Tesla," I replied, unable to help myself from allowing the smile to widen. He was smiling slightly as well, and like a mirror, we watched the content little creatures peck through the flower bed for worms before flapping off to the other and subsequently traveling to the yard. When they had left my sight, I budged again and finished off my drink. He held out his hand for my cup, which earned him a red-lipped kiss to his palm before the cup was placed there. He placed them in the sink, wiping his hand on his pants teasingly and grabbing his bag in one fluid movement. I checked my clasps and righted my bag across my body. With our keys in hand, I started for the garage only to have my phone awaken.

_Come pick me up? Uncle left for work this morning. Took the Escalade. No car. :(_

_Boyfriend either?_ I teasingly replied to Lala's text.

_Remind me to have you meet all of his siblings._

I laughed and climbed in, joined by Bram a heartbeat later. "What?"

"We're picking up the Lala monster," I teased, even though she couldn't hear me. His expression warmed to it, though, with a bemusement I hadn't seen in a long time. "She's a good influence on you," he said so warmly I didn't know if he was teasing or being serious.

I didn't reply, letting my smile do all the talking for me as we pulled away from the house. With the windows slightly down, the effects of spring in Salem were obvious. The air was perfumed by gardens, the earth loved by rain and even in the early morning, grass was being mowed. The drive to Draculaura's didn't take as long as navigating the town once had. The block was alive with the scent of roasting meat and the faint hints of nightshade in the garden of the house on the corner. She was waiting by the curb for us, a pair of round sunglasses over her eyes. "I almost thought you'd leave me," she said as Bram opened the door and offered his hand to boost her in between us.

"Leave you on a street corner? Who knows who'd pick up a pretty little girl like you," I teased. She rolled her eyes, blushing a deep pink as I pulled away. "So, who lives in the gingerbread house?" I asked, glancing toward the little place with the richly blooming garden. Belladonna sat by the step, while cheery tulips greeted the sun and distracted from their poisonous counterparts.

"That's Jackson's house," she said with a light shrug, "His mother enjoys gardening. She used to teach for us, but I think she's retiring. All this stuff with the merging schools is getting to her."

I nodded. I could only imagine what it was like to have two halves of yourself unable to merge while everything around you had the ability. She told me quite a bit about them both, how his mother had been a science teacher at the school up until recently and their somewhat insane familial life had put enough toll on her to get her to take a leave of absence, something most people considered indefinite. As we approached the school, Bram leaned forward and gave a low whistle, "Now that's a car I'd sell my soul for."

The administrative parking lot was adjacent to the student parking, and the very last car was definitely new. Glossy, black, probably kevlar plated. It was an army hummer gone rogue, and it was a glorious piece of machinery, that I would admit. "Now that's taste," he replied, "Tough but quietly stated."

"It's vampiric," Draculaura pointed out.

I smirked, "Maybe it's a vampire's car."

"Then...?" She didn't even need to finish her sentence; we were all staring at the driver as he took a briefcase from the backseat and walked toward the school. Sure, as tough and masculine as the car was, the man was definitely not quietly stating himself in any way. He dressed like a typical exotic game hunter, all khaki and canvas, right down to the animal print and worn out leather. I rolled my eyes, "Really? What kind of psych patients to they let substitute classes nowadays?"

Draculaura let out a little giggle as I turned off the car and tossed the keys to Bram. She climbed out through my door into the warm spring sun, the breeze caressing our faces and stirring her pigtailed hair. I ran my fingers through the ends errantly, bringing a warmer smile to her lips. "Is it true what they say about vampires?" she asked, facing me and walking backward toward the school. How she managed that in her heels was actually a little surprise.

"Depends on what you mean," I replied, allowing Bram to catch up before following her.

"About having..." she turned red, obviously hesitating to properly phrase it.

"Sexual fluidity?" Bram replied with a raised brow. From the girlish expression of embarrassment plastered on her face, I barely contained my laughter. Her innocence was the biggest oddity of all of her.

"Yes," I spoke for the both of us, "Although you won't find too many talking about it. It may be a common fact, but they do like to pretend they have something resembling virtue."

Bram scoffed. I smiled. The sentiment was as true as any; it was no secret that virtue was something people, not just vampires, wanted to have and never did. My parents had never lied to me about virtue, nor had his. Innocence and ignorance was for peasantry.

"Do you...?" she began, backing up toward the school's steps.

I caught her arm and turned her before she could stumble up the stairs. "I'm picky, regardless of vampirism." She seemed encouraged by that, flashing me a glance, "Is it possible to develop it in time?"

I glanced to Bram, trying not to giggle with the curiosity of her statement and its implications. He patted the top of her head like a younger sibling. "Sexuality is genetic, regardless of what others think. You are the only one that can determine what you are, Draculaura."

From the sheepishness in her expression, obviously no one had sat down and had a serious talk with her. Even the most pressing matters of young adulthood had been left to chance. I draped an arm over her shoulder, giving her a supportive squeeze, "It's alright. We'll get to it. We have time."

I think for the first time it occurred to us both that we intended to stay in Salem for a prolonged amount of time. Draculaura, upon realizing the meaning of my words, perked up as if she were a plant given water for the first time. Bram glanced to me, the words obviously having been exactly the ones he'd wanted to hear. Well, we built a castle and began a kingdom, what was the point in leaving just because of a little thing like cultural integration? As we headed upstairs to class, I had a vague notion that things were about to change. I was about to have my royal sense put to the test. I squeezed Draculaura gently and flashed her a smile, "Walk you to class?"

She rolled her eyes, "If you insist."


	51. Chapter Fifty-One

_Chapter Fifty-One_

It was incredibly hard to focus on lectures when even the little red-thorn bushes had tiny, pink flowers that almost looked like a child's drawing of a daisy. From the windows in the Mad Science lecture hall, I gazed out at the gently stirring blooms while they were kissed by the cool, springtime air. The rounded petals of the bush's blooms were a cherry blossom pink with large, dark centers like the center of a Brown-Eyed Susan. Lavender blooms on a tree across the field stood out against the slowly falling petals of the white Magnolias surrounding it. While white was replaced by green, the pink flowered trees had just begun to bloom. As the yellow tulips died, red ones sprouted, and following them came the white. The field outside the hall was a cornucopia of colors, all mismatched and yet full of harmony. I could imagine, from the stories of my peers, the pond beyond the trees in a tiny grassy alcove, with a tire swing that one of the boys had put in less than two years ago to dive from. Surely a day like today, anyone would escape the hall for their swimming hole. Even sans waterproof sunscreen, I wanted to.

As an honest scholar, I couldn't call this room a classroom. A classroom implicated some level kind of floor. But from the level base below, our teacher made good use of his booming voice and I made use of my attention-deficient note-taking skills, copying every word without truly hearing them. Good god, what I wouldn't have given for an escape from this; for a chance to explore these lands as we had Belfry Prep's grounds. I could imagine taking Gory by the hand, leading her on a thrillingly dangerous little trip to ditch class. The teachers weren't overly disciplinarian here. We could surely lay under the lavender blossomed tree, in full view of the classes, and no one would care. I could run my fingers through her hair and watch her read. She was such a vivid reader. Every emotion flickered across her face so openly. She thought she was so clever, but she couldn't hide a thing. She lied all the time, but neither she nor I could believe her. I had seen her tear at one too many character deaths and despicable plot twists to remain aloof to her true motives. They always came out in the end, no matter how long it took. Just like the problem with her parents, as safe as it would've been to keep it to herself, she told me. Sometimes I imagined that even if she couldn't trust me, she'd tell me everything. It terrified me. Not very many things terrified me, but as intelligent as Gory was, she thought as much with her heart as her mind. It hadn't led to much trouble, but it had led to a share. Every second I spent apart from her was a second she could be getting herself into some kind of unnatural danger. I didn't mean to be her keeper, nor did I mean to worry so much, but the moment her mother had asked me to take care of her the instinct had taken root and remained. Surely I'd isolated her. I'd rather she'd keep the company of books, with their perfect people and their open understanding than the company of another person. People could hurt her, had hurt her, and as surely as I was to one day, they would if they had the chance. More times than I wanted to acknowledge had I stayed awake late into the night with the firm realization that _I_ had been the one to leave marks upon her skin. _I_ had been the one to shape the darkened bruises on her hips. Immortal or not, she was as fragile as one of the gilded spring blooms. But nothing gold can stay.

The bell broke me suddenly from my thoughts and spurred me to pack my bag and rise. My partner in the class was a quiet troll boy that dressed much like Gory's friend, Jackson. He hardly spoke, he wore his obedience with pride, and he pretended that the obvious scorn of our classmates didn't cause him pain. He left just steps ahead of me, only to be cornered by Jacob and Marcus, two of the vampires from the team. Marcus placed one hand firmly on his chest and gave him a hard shove back into the lockers. I couldn't help but scowl in pity as he bounced off, wincing in pain.

"Cash or carry, pint-sized," Jacob hissed.

"I don't have any money," he muttered pitifully.

"What?" Jacob snapped in a sharper tone.

"I don't have any money!" the troll boy cried, "I gave it all to you Friday! My mom only gets paid every two weeks!"

"Well, then you know what we'll have to do then, don't you?" It was a typical bullying move, probably trying to scare him out of any valuables. I stepped between them, placing a hand firmly on Jacob's shoulder, "Down, boy."

His eyes narrowed, "What are you doing, Bram?"

"Terrorizing him will bring you no gain. You have money. You have his fear. Now leave him alone."

Carmine slits watched me like a snake about to strike, "And what do you have to gain for standing up for a little shit like him? Every girl in school is already gushing about how sensitive and smart you are. Maybe you'd just like some of the lookers to leave their numbers and their underwear, huh?"

Fury flared like a stoked flame and I resisted every urge to grab his asinine face and slam it into the stone and concrete wall. I set my jaw, raised my chin and growled through my teeth, "As your captain, I'm telling you to back down. If you don't, I won't hesitate to embarrass you in front of your friends."

"By what? Showing me up at practice? I've already got a fairy for a front man, you can't do any worse than you have." He tried to make himself bigger, rising to his height and expecting the extra inch to intimidate me. I scoffed, "You're not going to get a rise out of me, that's for sure. Unlike you, I'm comfortable in my sexuality and very comfortable in knowing that you can talk all you'd like, I'll still have the most beautiful girl you've ever laid eyes upon under me in bed tonight and every night subsequently thereafter."

He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, she's so hot." Sarcasm was dripping from every word. He licked his fangs, chuckling to himself as he tilted his head with the defiance of a modern hood. "Maybe she would be if she had a real man putting her in her place instead of this liberal shit you think is gonna make her love you. If it's news to you, she's been makin' eyes at a human. You really must've sucked to make her go _that low._ What's next, a mongrel?"

My fist had snapped up and slammed into his face before red even colored my vision. Once he stumbled, I threw another punch. They were directly on target and sparing no amount of force. His nose broke, gushing a river of blood into his hands, and the second hit left him with what would surely be a black eye for days to come. He started lowering in submission, but it only earned him a sharp kick to the solar plexus. With the wind removed from his lungs, he laid in a gasping heap on the floor. My blood was burning. I could've killed him. It would've taken absolutely nothing for me to lift him up and snap his neck and just keep going, twisting until his body fell away with his spine crushed into powder and his spinal cord unable to take the tension any longer. The taste of bare saliva filled my mouth like a snake's venom, begging to be tainted with blood. Instead, I took pleasure in his terrified flinch as I removed his wallet and flicked it toward the troll boy, "Take back what's yours, and then some if it suits you. He won't be bothering you again."

The boy looked down at it and back at me, removing thirty dollars and handing it back. I removed a fifty and placed it in his hand. He stared at me, about to protest when I gave his tender back a gentle nudge, "Pocket it and go see the nurse. You took quite a hit."

He nodded in silent gratitude and ducked off, still clearly upset about taking more than he needed. I flicked Jacob's wallet onto his chest, taking no less than the same amount of joy as the kick had brought me from his wince of pain and gradual falling back to the tile. I headed off in the direction of my next class to meet up with Gory, but no sooner had I walked past students than they parted the way...even the werewolves. Gory was waiting outside our literature lecture with Draculaura at her side. She didn't look so timid when she looked at me from under her china-doll eyelashes, or at Gory when her eyes flickered there like an expectant little sister, waiting to watch how proper courting was done. The ghost of a wicked smirk was on my sweetheart's features, seductive red lips turned up at the corners in an expression so dark and truly devious that it made my blood stir with warmth far different than had in anger. Slipping my arm around her waist, I drew her close and laced my fingers with hers, "Hear any interesting news?"

"Just that you're exerting your right of nobility again," she teased, winding her arms around my neck with the kind of desirable slowness that it only continued to stir my blood. My hand pressed to her lower back, pinning her chest to mine and revealing quite the attractive view down the partially unbuttoned top of her shirt. I nearly hissed in delight. Her hips bumped mine and delivered a shock of pleasure where I hoped she wouldn't. Only that thin, pretty skirt kept us apart and it took all of my self control not to tear it away.

"I want to be very, very rough with you," I murmured before connecting our mouths. Her lips gave under mine with total submission; I'd have to be a fool not to acknowledge that violence was at least the slightest bit arousing to her. They parted, allowing me the sweetness of her saliva and the flick of her voluptuous tongue. She'd have me teased to the point of agony before we even made it to our seats and she'd make me wait and play the good boy while her thighs brushed mine and the lust only built even farther. I tangled my free hand in the lower locks of her hair, dipping her head back to press light kisses to her skin. She gasped lightly, blushing and trying to refrain from grinding her hips against mine in such a public manner. "Now you see how I feel," I murmured in her ear.

She ran her fingers over my chest, dipping below my belt and giving a measure of relief with the acknowledgement of our mutual desire, "Want to be late? I can take care of that for you..."

Draculaura was blushing furiously, "I didn't think you meant that when you said congratulate him."

"Thank you, 'Laura," I replied, shortening her name in the haste to get the words out, "and I do hope you don't find yourself...confused by this." She flushed even more, if that was possible. Gory giggled a little, bell-like giggle. "I hope you'll join us for lunch so I can receive your words properly."

She blushed, nodded and ducked inside. Gory grinned like the Cheshire cat and I made use of that grin. I released her and headed off for the private, vampire-exclusive hall. It had been abandoned after the fight in approach to class time, something that we were obviously missing. The bell rang at no sooner of a time than she'd ducked down the hall with me. I grasped her hips, pulling her against my body quickly and ducking into the alcove of an unused classroom's door. Her skin was warm with moving blood and her perfume seemed amplified with her obvious desire. She pulled me close and kissed my neck, nearly making my eyes roll back in my head with bliss at her submission. It was more instinct than tradition and it made me want her all the more. "I heard you defended my honor," she murmured against my skin, brushing her fangs tenderly over my pulse, "thank you. I'm forever grateful."

"I love you," I said simply, pinning her against the stone and capturing her mouth with my own violently. Her elegant fingers twisted in my shirt collar and I felt the shiver of delight and anticipation run down her spine. There was something so twisted about us that we didn't fear being caught, but rather relished in the possibility that it could happen and tried anyway. She dropped her bag and shed mine, reaching for the buttons of my shirt while her elegant legs wrapped up against my hips. I caught them in my palms, boosting them and pressing against her while her fingers tangled in my hair. Her mouth was an opiatic honey and I was addicted. Every one of her curves, save for the ones trapped in her corset, was pressed against me. I wish she knew how she drove me mad. I reached for it, but she caught my hands. "Don't do this to me now," I pled against her mouth, allowing the raw passion to slip out without facade. It was coated in desperation, a level of lust only she could take me to. I had no desire for material things the way I desired her, no thirst for knowledge could ever compare to the thirst she awoke in me for all that she was- her blood, her body, her joy, her presence. I wasn't her slave but I was enslaved by her, her king and her victim, her dominant and her submissive. My fingers traced the ties hidden under her sash and I whispered against her mouth with equal wonton bliss, "I need you. Please...let me indulge. I promise, I'll make it worth it."

"I can't promise I can keep quiet," she whispered, her lips red like hot coals from kissing.

"I didn't ask you to." Her eyes, so warm and so vulnerable, showed me the true depth of her gratitude. A delicate swan among ducks, two animals similar in nature and appearance but so infinitely different in kinds of beauty. I caught her fingers in my own, nuzzling her into the corner and promising with gentle kisses that I would keep her safe, even here. We wouldn't be caught. No harsh words against my lady would go unpunished. No treason to her ever committed.

"Bram, I love you," she whispered as if I'd forgotten.

I kissed her firmly, silently, reassuring her that I hadn't and it was quite possible that I never could.


	52. Chapter Fifty-Two

_Chapter Fifty-Two_

I felt completely incapable of being happy for anyone but myself. After ditching, and being covered by Draculaura, we rejoined the masses for lunch. Bram's fingers were tangled with mine, his eyes half-lidded with thorough exhaustion that echoed through my muscles. I was long past blushing at other peoples' knowledge. I fed him a grape or two while we watched Draculaura and her friends from our table.

"What's she talking about?" he murmured, laying his head on his forearm. I offered him a bite of sliced, caramel-glazed apple and he took it appreciatively from my hand without budging. I listened, shrugging, "The sub." My mind flashed back to the coach and his valiant last effort to keep us safe. I looked up, down to the other end of the table where the others socialized. Tiffany was strong, she'd survive her loss. The only other people that would mourn him with me were in Canada, though, under the assumption that we were dangerous. Caring about someone was dangerous. In a manner of weeks, the coach had gone from hardly acknowledging my existence to caring for me, and it got him killed.

"Something wrong?" Bram asked. My diverted attention returned to the present, eyes flicking instinctively over to the pink-clad girl walking away from the werewolves with disappointment written clearly across her lovely face. I rose, completely surprised when he followed, and crossed the room to her. "Hey Draculaura."

She seemed surprised that I would address her in front of other people, "Oh...hey."

"We couldn't help overhearing," Bram spoke to her gently, softly, as if he expected her to dissolve into disappointed tears at any moment. Maybe he did, maybe I should've. We'd never dealt with anyone like Draculaura before.

"You don't deserve to be treated like that," I continued, taking another step closer to her.

"Especially not from them." As little as he may have approved of the relationship, I was glad to see he hadn't vocalized it.

"You deserve to be treated with respect. You're a _vampire._ You rule over all other monsters." She was caught between us, her cheeks ever so slightly pink with a blush of embarrassment and, if I knew the twinkling in her eyes and I knew it well, triumph. She probably hadn't acknowledged the idea in a long time. How long, I would've wanted to know. How long had it been since she'd been around someone like her? Her eyes had a measure of hope for me. A gradual amount more of trust. Her skin was warm as I touched her back, the sharp incline of her shoulder like a protruding bone. She was such a slight little thing, a good dose of blood and proper cooking would do her a world of good.

"That's nice of you to say," she replied, timidly, "but I have to get back to my friends."

It was at that moment that I understood the true depth of her friendship. My eyes widened slightly as I watched her go, her eyes still raised but ever so slightly, her chin had been lowered as if she'd been speaking to someone of a higher status. She showed me respect, quietly persuading the others to do the same without words. Bram rested a hand gently on my back. I could've sobbed. It was swaying to know the extent of her loyalty surpassed so many others'.

"I like her," he whispered in my ear.

I nodded silently, returning to our carefully positioned seats. We were at the head of it all, dominating everything in absolute, undisputed silence. It was for the first time, as I sat, that I noticed the face of the man standing beside the headless headmistress. Instead of being wrought with childish fear as I might've been, I sat even straighter and allowed the darkness of ages of hatred fill my eyes.

"Fuck me sideways," Bram hissed, his eyes trained on the mortal with equal intensity.

"He is who I think he is?" My eyes refused to be torn away now that they had latched into place. He carried himself like a king, like he was a hunter. He was nothing like us. The hatred burning in my eyes could've melted gold. I wasn't the one in need of the self control this time; Bram was sitting ramrod straight, his eyes borderline black with fury. "He is."

The Van Hellscream clan was one of intense, immeasurable hatred for monster-kind. They had torn through Europe on a crusade a little more than a century ago, pillaging castles and overturning villages in the hunt for anyone against the human norm. My parents had opened the villa to them against my grandfather's wishes, and I remembered remaining awake every night with my cousin, waiting for them to find us. We had laid on our bellies in the belfry, daggers sheathed in leather clutched in our palms so tightly the sharp edge could've pierced through and cut our hands, daring them with our watchful eyes and sharp minds. I still remembered my father and uncles primeval hunting traps and checking them in the morning and the evening. From what Bram had told me once, I had been in paradise compared to his family. I hadn't dared ask more; putting him through unnecessary emotional pain was not worth the knowledge.

He rose slowly, coming to full height like a young king. The vampires had quieted and some looked away out of respect and fear. Under their gaze, I rose at his side, lest they forget that I stood by him no matter the outcome. I had committed every detail to memory until I remembered what century it was, and with a small, dark smile dawning on my lips, I withdrew my phone from my bag and snapped a singular picture. He seemed to draw to attention then, but I replaced myself in my seat and began sending it off to necessary persons- namely Sean and Valentine. Bram leaned forward slightly, his palms resting on the tabletop and dark, loathing eyes locked on the mortal's face. His mouth, under a full moustache, twitched slightly. With the elegance of a true king, Bram left his seat and offered his hand to me. I placed mine in his, joining him in exiting with a dramatic flourish.

He didn't wait for the lunch bell to ring as he walked through the main hall and out the heavy wooden door. I followed in thoughtful silence all the way out to the nestle of forest at the corner of the school's fencing. Lichen wormed through the cracks in the stone, vines peeking against the place where the metal connected to it. Bram scaled the old tree and settled among the branches. The baby leaves draped over him partially, enough to cover him in his ascent. I rolled my eyes, stowed my phone and tossed my bag over my shoulder, "You're going to kill me like this."

His hand dropped from between the leaves, clasping mine and helping to guide me up to his level. The branches bowed out like a little bowl. He laid against the only large one, leaving me to settle against the trunk on a pair of flat ones with a small gap between them. A manner of birds and bugs sounded around the both of us, but it wasn't until I heard a dove's coo that I felt a real urge to break the silence.  
"Was it around the wars?"

He looked up, remembering my presence and nodding slowly. "Our forces were depleted and father was in the manor, battling an infection he'd gotten from exposure while wounded. There was a whole mass of them and the city was too weak to fight them off. They did the right thing, staying back. It wasn't their fight."  
The forgiveness in his words didn't match the scorn in his eyes. He sunk back against the bowing branch and rubbed his eyes, "We fought for two days, my father, Sean, ten men and I. There were two of them for every one of us. It should've been easy, but they were a clan. Well-trained and, at the time, not so cocky."

I hopped branches a bit closer, leaning over to brush his bangs from his eyes, "You recognized him?"

"They don't look much different. Surely this is a different one, but...they look the same. Why it would surprise me is beyond me. They've always looked similar, goddamned aryans..."

It was with dark humor that I found the irony in his words. I shook my head, leaning back against the trunk, "We're better than them, they can't be that superior."

He huffed in exasperation, "You know what I mean."

I did. I smiled, flicking him a tired look of my own before removing his hand from his lap, kissing his knuckles gently and whispering, "You know where to find me." I intended to spend my free period asleep in the belfry for the rest of its duration and expected that once his reverie was over, he would come find me. I clutched my bag to my chest and dropped. Weightlessness engulfed my body, spiraling my mind into temporary vertigo before the weight was concentrated at my center and I had extended my arms to propel myself outward. Don't ask me how possessions became a part of me this way, I genuinely did not know. The heat of the sun tingled my back, little wings flapping up into the belfry before I landed gently within the domains of its window, changing back in a nestle of boxes. I arranged them to pull out a crate days before; coffins might've been outdated, but they were great napping spots when you didn't want to be found. I had just set my bag down in the foot when I heard ascending steps. Silently lowering the lid, I froze in place and listened. It was a thrilling little game of cat-and-mouse, hearing the brush of boots across the floor and lowering to my palms, coiling my body to spring. They paused nearby and I could practically feel the rise of terror in the being on the other side...yet it didn't raise the heartbeat any.

"Gory?" Draculaura whispered.

I sunk in disappointment, rising and climbing over the box's edge to grasp her wrist and drag her back into my alcove with me, "What?"

"I wanted to come make sure you were alright after lunch...I'm sorry-"

I pulled her in and crushed her face against my shoulder. She went rigid, probably trying to decide if I was smothering her or comforting her, and unwound slowly. Her dainty fingers wound in the back of my shirt, face shifting ever so slightly into the crook of my neck to exhale her so-warm breath on my skin. I was so tired I could've melted. Climbing trees, doing math, sneaking off during literature for a little afternoon affair, it was all so tiring. I needed a nap before I went home to get things ready for Sean and Sabby. I must've been sinking, because she went down with me. Her arms were wrapped tightly around my torso, her face in my chest, her breath quivering and making my blood throb. She was so freakishly human that it was almost enough to confuse me.

"I don't think he loves me anymore," she whispered in complete despair against my skin. "He's hardly said two words to me in public..."

"He's being a stupid little boy again," I murmured, my eyes half-lidded from her warmth, "Boys do that when they meet up with old friends. They act even less mature than usual, he's no different. Give him time."

"And if he's ashamed of me?" she whispered. I could tell the thought was genuine but I was too tired to respond with something genuine of my own, so I shrugged and hoped my glasses wouldn't fall off in my sleep. "If he hurts you, hurt him back."


	53. Chapter Fifty-Three

_Chapter Fifty-Three_

I hadn't taken two steps into the house before Sean was down the stairs and pulling the both of us into the house. He slammed the door, causing the sound to resonate through the entire house. I winced. In a flurry of half-mad Gaelic, he looked directly at Bram and snapped, "Did you kill him?"

"There were witnesses," he replied, his eyes still dark with muted fury.

"What the bloody hell do I care if there are witnesses!? He's a Van Hellscream! You kill him before he kills you." Sean's eyes were dark and partially desperate. Maybe he wanted me to back him up, but in honesty, I was slightly intimidated. Killing humans was easy, of course, but it didn't have to be commonplace. My stomach did a little flip in the acknowledgement of his words, but Bram's eyes fixated on his brother's with more strength than I'd expected him to have at a time like this. "It's illegal in this era. This is my land, Sean. Have faith."

"Faith," he snorted, walking the length of the entryway and turning sharply on his heel, "Yer not a god, Abraham! Yer hardly a kid!"

After the incident with that boy, I thought he'd surely crack. After the defense and the reward, though, not to mention the turmoil of a recurring enemy, he didn't have the energy. He merely raised his chin in defiance and said, very gently, "I was man enough to fight at Father's side the last time."

He turned and went back upstairs. I leaned down, scooping up Sabbath before she could rub against my legs. The long nap in the belfry had been shared by the three of us; Draculaura had remained awake until Bram had come to replace her on top of the makeshift casket with me, but she had settled in against the crates and fallen asleep like a refugee, all curled up in a tiny ball as if she were trying to hide. I was no longer tired, but Bram didn't seem to share the sentiment. He headed into the den, tossing down his bag within the door and sprawling out across part of the couch, an ankle propped up on the corner of the table. I went into the kitchen to make coffee before carrying Sabbath upstairs, murmuring sweet things into her fuzzy ears. She leapt free from my arms near the bed, catching the footboard and using it to propel her fluffy body into the pillows, where she made herself a comfortable little nest. I unpacked what I needed to do for homework on the desk and left my bag beside it before changing into something comfortable. Sabbath had settled in for another power nap of her own by my exit.

Out of curiosity, I wandered the halls until I found the room Sean was inhabiting and peeked around the door. He laid on the bed, one foot dangling free, his hands clasped over his eyes and his voice a low, slightly comforting hum. "I'm tellin' ya Mum, it's him. Nah, don't tell Da yet. How's he been? Good?...yeah. Didn't think so." He chuckled, but it came out like a breath. "It'd kill him t' take a day off."

I turned off his lights, something that startled him into sitting up. Upon spotting me, his shoulders relaxed and he dropped back onto the mattress. I wandered over, patting his elbow to attract his attention. His eyes were closed and he didn't move, listening to Maggie's tinkling tone probably telling him something completely pointless and meant to pacify, but I knew he was listening. "Coffee with dinner alright?"

He broke into a smile and gave a little nod. If he'd said asprin, I wouldn't have been surprised. I left him to Maggie to ensure he could rest in the way that only a mother could incite rest. The house was entirely quiet, not an uncommon occurrence, yet today's quiet was tinged with apprehension. I nudged open the door of the den and looked in on Bram, completely unsurprised to find him with the TV on and muted, returning to his earlier resting. The subject was a hard one for the Devein boys, I didn't need to have been present to understand that. I silently turned off the picture, kissed his forehead and left him to his sleep.

While assembling dinner, Valentine called. He'd passed along the photo and the extent of my knowledge to my parents only to receive less than positive news; the rest of the story. One of their line had killed his mother years ago and come for his father recently. My mother, sans guise, had been aiding Valentine's father in escape until then. The death had sent them both into hiding, triggering her "death" and protecting our family as well. The Van Hellscream clan thought their threat dead, but as he spoke, I lost track of the times I'd nearly cut off my own finger in anger.

"Sure 'nuff, I got the whole story, just like you," he replied, "She wants ya outta there."

I didn't respond. He continued after a pause, "They're worried about ya. It's kind of their job, bein' parents and all."

"Maybe my mother should've thought of that when I thought she was dead," I replied. Now wasn't the best time to finish my grieving process, but I had been in _agony_ at her perceived passing. The least she owed me was a silent support.

"Ya wanna tell her that? I'd like not to be messenger of this little conversation."  
Val was as intimidated by my mother as he'd like to pretend he wasn't. It made me smile.

"She's not going to bite you, golden boy. Maybe you ought to remind her that I haven't been her legal responsibility in centuries." Neither was he, but that was different entirely. He liked being the baby boy. My parents had let me leave and funded my independence thus far. I wouldn't have given anything short of my soul to have left the environment of constant business. He sighed. He was displeased with me, but wasn't that something I was used to?

"So, how's your wife?" he said dryly, making a laugh burst from between my lips.

"He's exhausted. There might've been a little more to my day than discovering a hunter in our midst," I replied, fully expecting him to leave it there.

"You didn't steal a little afternoon somethin'-somethin' in a closet, did ya?" he teased.

"Against a classroom door, actually, and he deserved it after the little fight this morning."

Valentine made a sound in the back of his throat. I could've stuck my tongue out at him; he was older, he shouldn't have been acting this much like my younger sibling. While I finished cooking, he typed until asking a bit too casually, "Do you know a Laura Dracula?"

"I know a Draculaura," I replied while hunting for containers for leftovers, "Why?"

"We were involved a few centuries ago," he murmured thoughtfully, "I wonder if she remembers me."

"Not for long," I teased.

"You've actually jumped fence? You surprise me, Gory."

I laughed, taking a stack of lids from the cabinets and placing them on top of interlocked tupperware. God, how the twenty-first century had domesticated us. "I haven't yet, but I did fall asleep with her earlier. We've grown fond of each other."

"Grown fond," he snorted, "I was growing fond of her too. Almost went all the way in a graveyard on our first date."

I rolled my eyes, "She's too nice for you."

He laughed, lowering his tone to something he probably thought girls found attractive, "Every girl likes a bad boy."

I rolled my eyes, "Actually, I like the intelligent one. There may be many, but this one is mine. He's the only good looking one."

If I still had his interest, I couldn't tell. He was back to typing, probably back to digitally romancing some poor young thing. I bet he updated relationship statuses faster than Cleo de Nile updated her wish list. After a few moments of distraction, I hung up with him and went to fetch the boys. Instead, halfway up the stairs, my phone rang again. Until I looked at the screen, I thought it was Valentine with some last-minute thought he'd forgotten to vocalize. Instead, Draculaura's picture crossed the screen and successfully paused me at the top of the stairs. "City morgue," I answered.

"Ha ha," she replied with mock-dry humor. "I have a serious question to ask you, Gory Fangtell."

"Devein," I corrected her, sitting down in place. The middle of my hallway was surprisingly nice. Sean really did do a nice job from all angles.

"Why are you getting married?" she asked.

I laughed, "Because I'm happy. I'm in love. He makes me more than content with my life. Why aren't you?" It was a viable question; she was old enough to make that much of a decision. If her father thought differently, he really hadn't spent much time with her. She was silent for a very long time before replying, "I don't know."

"Then maybe you should. I do have to warn you, we're the results that shouldn't be expected." The hallway was big enough for me to lay down in. I hadn't noticed until now and it gave an almost childish tickling to my fancy of the place.

I heard her lay down and murmured in my ear, "I'm afraid of losing him, Gory. What do you do to keep Bram happy?"

"Absolutely nothing." It was true, we were happy with each other regardless of the effort put in. Hearing the misery in her voice, my happiness was as much as I wanted for her. If he was stupid enough to leave her, least of all over his friends, she deserved better. "You know, Valentine's asked about you."

She gasped audibly, "Valentine? Valentine...from Romania?"

"The very one," I replied, "I might be able to help the two of you meet up if things don't go well with your puppy."

She listened in silence, partially awed and partially guilty. It was audible as she murmured a moment later, "I have to go. Thank you, Gory."

"Just take care of yourself," I replied, perching on the balcony railing. As I lowered my phone, I was tempted to simply dive backward and transform to cut down time, but as I heard the den opening and knew they'd be rising regardless, I merely tipped back and let go. There was a moment, an honest moment when I thought I might hit the floor. Instead, I landed in Bram's hold and I burst into easy, peaceful laughter.


	54. Chapter Fifty-Four

_Chapter Fifty-Four_

The moon was amplified by the eclipse, sending shadows sprawling across the room. In each shadow, I saw the faces of friends long slain and enemies long defeated. Gory was sleeping soundly at my side, yet I knew if I closed my eyes, I would be thrown into the heart of combat. I had laid at her side until my pulse could no longer stay quiet, and even in this beautiful little home, I could hear the sounds of battlement. For the short time I did sleep, I felt the sting of a sword's slice and felt the ground blister as it was a thrown up, searing hot, from early chemical weapons designed to create a burn as great as true sun. It had rained for three days. I remembered my father's burns, how not even earth against the raw wounds could heal the smolder. Sean's desperate shouts, gasping for breath among the herbal air between his orders, promising that he would return before I could get killed. There had been a moment, as I sunk down behind our lines, that I had anticipated dying. I had minutes to grasp the idea of a painful and violent death that I would not see coming and cope with it. I hadn't. Not even as I had lunged back up and charged their horses, a young man in leather armor, barely plated, with no greater weapon than an empty crossbow and a broadsword. I'd saved Gaelin from getting shot. When Sean had returned, we'd overwhelmed them. We'd won by dumb luck, and we all knew it.

Despite my efforts, I started drifting again, only to have a firm grip clamp down on my shoulder. For a moment, I was back on the battlefield. I grabbed hold of the hand that had me and tried to snap the wrist, leaping to my feet and trying to break the arm attached. Sean grabbed my shoulder in one hand and my elbow in the other, the surprise in his eyes fading to a mild irritation, "Break m' arm I'll break your shoulder."

As I released his arm, I caught sight of my shaking hands and tried to steady them to little avail. Gory rolled over in bed, rubbing her eyes, "'Time is it?"

"Don't worry yourself," Sean said to her, gently, "Our parents are callin'. I just gotta steal him away for a bit."

Her half-focused eyes rested on me. I lowered myself back onto the bed, cupping her chin and placing a tender kiss to her bangs. "Rest. It's alright."

"You scared me," she muttered. In her exhausted state, she was as innocently spoken as a little girl. I tried not to smile while brushing my thumb over her cheek, "I was scared too. Blame Sean."

A light smile crossed her face, pure relief and trust. She nodded and sunk back against her pillow. I tucked her in and watched her coil into the duvet. I could've lingered, but Sean grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled until I stumbled out of the room behind him. The den was alive with our parents' voices, so much so that I expected to walk in and find them there. Instead, Sean's laptop was hooked up to the TV screen and his webcam was positioned on top of it. I felt horribly intrusive.

"Fer god's sake, woman, I told ya I took my damn pills!" Dad shouted with irritation plain in his tone.

"Well from experience, I'd doubt ya ever do! If yer tryin' ta kill yourself, get on with it already! Make me a rich widow with a good son for marryin' off!" Gory would never believe the annoyance they had between themselves at times. My mother was, unsurprisingly, one of the toughest women I'd ever known. She took no flak from anyone, least of all my father.

"Don't act like you can get better than me," he shot back as Sean opened the door.

"I didn't slam the door on ya when ya got inta my house after that goddamned war, y' oughta be the one bloody grateful. I didn't have ta let ya get all drunk and rowdy and keep goin'."

They'd try to one-up each other all night if I let them. Instead, Sean stepped into view and sunk onto the sofa, "Who the hell are you talkin' about marryin'? He's the one t' carry on the family name. I got work t' do, and it doesn't involve babysittin' my little brother."

Our mother sighed, her hand shifting to her hip, "And what's that s'posed t' mean?"

"Mom," I cut her off before she could continue, "There has to be a reason you woke me at..." Glancing at the clock, I mentally grimaced, "Two thirty?" It was only two thirty? I really hadn't slept much.

"Sean sent us the picture," my father said, his voice refraining from booming any louder than it had, "We're sendin' Gaelin and your cousins-"

"No," I replied firmly.

Even Sean looked at me like I'd lost my mind. "No?" he whispered, practically jumping to his feet in a sudden surge of anger, "What the bloody fuck d' ya mean _no_?! Ya don't put this aside, Bram! It's not like yer little conquest, people are gonna die here! Ya know what these people do! Ya seen 'em!"

"I have an army."  
I was too tired for my temper to flare, too confident to have my parents one-up me with relatives. No, I could handle two things at once.

"Yer little friends aren't gonna be much help," Sean muttered.

I smiled. It was slow, composed and finally as monstrous as I wanted it to develop to. "I wasn't talking about my friends." If Draculaura could win a wolf pack...what was to stop me? Sure, I wasn't a five foot Lolita in pigtails, but I could make friends. Hopefully their alpha had read some good books.

Our parents were silent until my father laughed. It was a small laugh at first, colored in amusement, then it became a full blown hysteric. I was almost insulted until I could hear the grin in his voice. "Look at that Maggie, he's takin' on after the big man himself. Have you even met him yet?"

I shook my head, hoping they could see us with Sean's amount of technology. They must've, since his laughing calmed and he sighed, "I'll set something up. You'd get along with him well, Bram. He did the same thing during the war. If you think it'll be a good idea...by all means, build your army. Be a king. Maybe we can see if that daughter of his can't get you some reputation within the court."

I was frozen, stuck on the words "be a king." My father was not a man to speak lightly; if he told me I could do it, I could. He had faith in me. He trusted me. It was a shock to say the very least, but a celestial right at best. It should be the wish of every father to watch their son surpass him, and as I righted myself with pride, I hoped it was his.

"Go. I wanna talk to your brother," he said. I nodded as Sean sunk down on the sofa, "Now?"

"Yes now, what the hell do ya mean ya got more important things t' do than take care of your little brother?"

Sean shot me a scornful look only to be met with a childish grin of triumph at the heat being directed at him instead of myself. I slipped out and returned upstairs in the silent darkness.

Sabbath was laying at the foot of our bed, curled up around Gory's feet. Her fingers were wound daintily in my pillow, her face at the very edge and her half-coiled figure more at peace than I had seen since the beginning of this whole mess. Her hair was ruffled with sleep, naturally ruby lips parted to reveal their fullness. She was a fairytale, a dream waiting to engulf me in her rapture and ensure that I never wanted to wake. I was careful in crawling into bed beside her, nestling against her soft pajamas. I withdrew her fingers from the pillowcase and tucked her arm closer to her body, lifting her head to rest her head upon my shoulder. Her opposite hand raised, linking in my shirt against my chest. I chuckled, running my fingers gently through her hair and closing my eyes against the top of her head.

When they opened again, the alarm was blaring and the front of my skull protested greatly. The sound cut abruptly, leaving me with ringing ears and a hazy mind. I thought I'd been laying on the pillow until I looked up and the pillow had a very gentle, bemused smile on her face. "I don't exactly know when I became your lounge, but you're warm, so I'll take it."

I smiled, resting my head against Gory's soft chest once again. It was hard to keep my eyes open and her fingers traced my cheek softly, tucking the unruly tufts of my hair back while I caught a little extra sleep. It felt like only moments until she nudged me gently. "We have to get up, sweetheart."

I grunted. It was too quiet for Sean to be awake. I rolled over to let her up, earning only a firm kiss on the mouth in return. Stirring, I kissed her in return. If I could've purred, I would've. Her tender touch roamed downward, awakening me warmly. As her fingers traced the waistband of my pants, her warm breath fanned my ear on gentle words. "It's time to get up, _mon cher._ I want to see your beautiful eyes...come now, Bram, you're not just going to leave me waiting, are you?"

I caught her hand and pressed her palm to my lips firmly. "Keep that up and you'll have more to do before class."

"Not two days in a row," she muttered, withdrawing completely. I watched her rise and chuckled to myself. It was almost as if we were married already. She tossed me a look, her eyes teasing and warm. I'd seen them cold with fury, I'd seen them dark with pain and I could say firsthand, nothing lit up her face more than when her eyes were so full of devotion and love. "What?" she teased, throwing a shirt at me.

I caught it, leaning over the bed to keep it from hitting the floor, and met her eyes. "You're such a lazy little shit," I teased in return, shedding my shirt to replace it with the new one, "First it was just schoolwork, now even making love is tedious."

"It's not tedious," she replied, her cheeks flushing slightly, "It's just...I don't want it to be quick."

My god was she beautiful. Inside and out, Gory Fangtell was a more glorious creature than anyone gave her credit for. Sure, she could be harsh and cold. It was how she kept herself sane. There was so much more to her than her sharp instincts and equally brutal wit. She savored life in the way others wished they could. Every bite, a new experience. She drank it all in with the vigor and poetry that could make Shakespeare weep. No one had any idea how deeply she treasured the little things. No attention paid to her went without reward. They feared her and revered her and I loved her with all of the force that had gone slack in her lifetime. Peoples' opinions changed. Worth to an outsider faded, but much like a treasured prize, she would be a treasure to me until the day I died. I watched her the way an artist watched their muse, her cheeks increasing their pinkness as her quick movements hardly hid a sight from me. Finally, half-dressed and tightening her corset, she murmured, "Will you look somewhere else?"

I rose instead, crossing the room and capturing her chin in my palm. She rolled her eyes; she was such a stubborn little shit when she wanted to be. It only made my lips turn up at the corner in a smirk as my fingers traced down to the unbound front of the restricting fabric, "Leave it off."

"No," she said, almost offended at the very idea.

"I sleep with you every night, I'd know if anything really required a corset." I reached for it but she caught it, pressing it tightly to her midsection. Her chin rose defiantly. As much as she thought she intimidated me, I only stole a kiss in teasing. Her eyes begged, full of a deep self-loathing instilled by others. I scowled, brushing my fingers against the gap that her brasserie and her corset had left of fair skin. "You're beautiful," I muttered, "and my first duty as your husband will be to lock these up where you can't get to them."

She swallowed, eyes steeling in resistance. I didn't have the heart to control her. I never had nor likely ever would, but the threat of it was apparently enough. She'd probably be put out with me for hours, but I cupped her cheek and kissed her softly. "If I wanted a tiny little bottle blonde, I'd have one," I muttered, "I want you. Don't forget that."

She rolled her eyes, "You're already in love with me, you don't get to tell me things anymore. You're biased."

"I'm right," I retorted, taking the ties of her corset gently in my hands and securing it around her midsection gently. She scowled; it must not have been tight enough for her liking, but I didn't care. I looped it in a happy little bow that drooped upon its completion. She looked down at it and met my repressed smile with one of her own, "You're something else."

"Isn't that why you love me?" I caught her arms, bringing her closer and pressing a warm kiss to her full, red lips. I could've continued down her neck, but her phone went off and she dashed across the room for it, her skirt raising and swirling around her knees like a zephyr. I could've watched her for years. She was a goddess and I was a very lucky man whose dreams and curses were worth every moment of being with her. "Hey Draculaura," she said into the mouthpiece, gesturing with a hand for her top. I glanced over and picked up the gossamer red thing from the doorknob of the closet, holding it in front of myself with a gesture. She motioned for me to give it, so I left her undershirt in place and tossed it over my shoulder like a model's jacket, heading down to make breakfast. If she wanted it, she'd come get it. She laughed out loud, a bemused and happily frustrated laugh. I left her shirt on the loop of the stairwell for her to find on the way down.


	55. Chapter Fifty-Five

_Chapter Fifty-Five_

Bram toyed with the ends of my hair while leaning on the locker beside ours. Carrie Cadaver stood behind me, her books clutched to her chest, texting slowly. I glanced at her and guided her closer to us, away from the crowds to class surely to topple her. She smiled slightly and continued texting, silently grateful.  
"You know what?" he muttered, "I think our new friend has a little too much in common with Hitler."

I laughed out loud. The idea of Draculaura in any totalitarian position couldn't have made me laugh any harder. He smirked, about to acknowledge some fun fact or other before rolling his eyes, "If the Egyptian makes eyes at you again, I'm going to politely inform her boyfriend to put her on a leash."

Cleo's tone was a little too airy, trying a little too hard to mimic us, "Oh Deuce! You're _so funny!_"

I shut my locker and glanced back to Carrie. She tucked her phone away and smiled, holding out her hands for my books. I placed them in her grip only for Cleo to toss her books into Ghoulia's hands. I scowled openly to the other zombie, who merely shifted them to her chest and pushed up her glasses to keep them from slipping. She returned my gaze and smiled a little, a little too used to the abuse for my taste. "Why does she put up with Cleo?" I asked Carrie, "What's the backstory?"

Bram turned his attention to his phone, an ear still quirked toward the conversation. He was used to the information-grabbing ways of females trying to learn about each other. It was different for guys, they could sit down and talk things over. Women waged wars behind closed doors. He knew better than most.

Carrie shuffled along, her smile genuine. She had likely never had a friend like me before, and I didn't mean vampire. To be acknowledged by popularity was one thing, but to have someone similar to yourself in power was something entirely more special. She didn't let me forget how much I was worth in her eyes in the slightest. "_They've been friends since Ghoulia moved in. There was some kind of accident. Carbon monoxide or something. Anyway, they'd met this voodoo priest once...really sweet guy. He heard what happened, came up to Ohio, bam. Zombies. Then they moved here, set up shop, and she impressed Cleo. I think she might've been the only person that didn't receive royal hell for intruding in her space._"

I'd like to show her royal hell while pulling her silky hair out of her head. Where Draculaura had the effect of novocaine on my temper, Cleo made my blood boil. I didn't know why, I didn't care. I just knew that if the opportunity arose, I'd knock that rhinestone off her face with a slap that would put her back in nineteen ninety-five with it. "And that little show at practice, that was supposed to be royal hell?"

Carrie smiled a little more maliciously than I anticipated someone as quiet as her could muster. "_You threaten her whether you mean to or not. She knows you're better. You're a worthy opponent. She'll try to destroy your life entirely, she won't settle at scaring you._"

Bram laughed, voicing my thought. I smirked, taking note of the flawlessly paced clicking of my heels across the floor, timed almost exactly with Carrie's shuffles and Bram's steps. It was a closely-knit triad, impenetrable to the envious glares of my former peers and the somewhat admiring glance Ruth tossed our way while she and Walter cozied up by his locker. Heading over to the stairs, we settled in and I produced my iCoffin for a few minutes of peace before class. From the scowl on my fiancee's face, he was either texting Sean or had downloaded a new Temple Run. My god, the games for iCoffin were like Atari all over again- Fruit Ninja, Angry Birds and the like. The lovely old days of joint-and-button game consoles full of actual skill and revolutionizing nerd pride. I hopped up on the railing, attempting to catch a few rays from oddly-placed windows. "When did you die?" I said, hoping Carrie would understand the question was for her.

"_Five, six years ago?"_ she replied like a question, _"I don't exactly remember. It wasn't the highlight of my life."_ I chuckled this time. Bram glanced at me, "Are you suicidal or do you think the only way to transform is to leap from high places?"

Realizing I was leaning backward over the railing, I broke into a smile and grasped his arm, "A bit of both."

Carrie sat on the bench, settling in and silently dismissing us. He tucked his phone in his pocket and rolled his eyes, propping himself up on the edge and allowing me to silently fall backward. I did love the rush of falling. The split second before my body could potentially collide with concrete, the knowledge that I was a hair's breadth away from sudden and painful, although temporary, death was thrilling. Bram transformed a few feet off the ground, but I waited until the last second. I savored the drop. And just as I felt the warmth in my limbs, the familiar tightening and live-wire nerves that came with the shift, my name was called sharply and my focus snapped.

The world went dark for a moment, but only a moment. There was a sharp pain in my skull, a dull throb in my shoulder, and I was livid. My confused limbs, still warm, wanted to be free. There was the soft landing of shoes at my side as my vision returned, and after establishing my glasses were intact, I leapt to my feet and charged Cleo de Nile for all it was worth. I was seeing red that spread slowly across my vision. My nails caught her flawless skin. I pulled her hair like a little girl trying to force another into playground submission, and her boyfriend and mine were trying to pull me free. I had her on her back, tears in her eyes. Eyes so blue I could see the sky in them. They'd make lovely haunting memories when I clawed them out.

Bram grabbed me firmly around the waist and yanked me off, taking the chance with his own well being and grabbing my wrists to pin them together as best he could.

"Calm down!" he shouted, practically shaking me to break the focus of my anger, "Gory, calm down!"

When the red didn't leave my vision, I took off my glasses and squinted down at them. Thick, syrupy, bright red blood coated the lens. I touched my fingers to my forehead, drawing them back to find the same, although less dense, blood on my hand. Bram noticed at the same moment I did and he went white. He dropped his bag, produced a handkerchief and took a firm hold on my chin, guiding my face toward his. He brushed my bangs aside and examined the abrasion. His eyes were dark with concern and semi-mortal terror. His touch remained painfully gentle, dabbing the blood away instead of simply applying pressure and cutting it entirely. Finally fed up with his gentility, I grabbed it from his hand, folded it into a tight little square and pressed it against my forehead. He winced, "Are you in any pain?"

"Of course not. What kind of a wimp do I look like?" I didn't mean to be sharp with him, but he'd seen me make worse landings from higher places. Carrie, on the stairs, had a little laugh burst from the very center of her being. Her descent slowed, realizing I wasn't in any imminent danger. Cleo stood with the dramatically executed help of her boyfriend, but the look on her face was strangely sincere and sincerely infuriated.

"I thought you were going to bust your head open!" she snapped, causing my temper to flare again.

"I had it handled until you opened your insolent trap!" _Who the hell does she think she is?_

"You did anyway!" she gestured to the cloth clutched to my forehead. I took a sharp step toward her that caused Bram to block me from approaching her any more. Deuce positioned himself in front of her to catch her if she launched herself at me.

"I know what I'm doing, you idiotic little girl."

She laughed. I rose my hand to slap her. Eyes glittering, they refocused on me, "Don't you know a thing about Egyptians?"

It was my turn to smirk. I quirked my brows defiantly, "My people took you over."

Her smile fell instantly. Bram turned his face to hide the proud grin that had lit up his features. She turned on her heel and stormed up the stairs. Ghoulia and Carrie exchanged a look of muted delight. I shrugged, combing my fingers through my bangs to ensure the blood didn't stick my hair together, "I may not have been there, but I know my history."

"_Excuse my lack of applause, my hands are full. How's your iCoffin?_"

I withdrew it from my pocket, checking it over and its functionality and smiled, "Intact."

"That was flawless," Bram chuckled, "and executed perfectly."

"Like a Nazi firing squad," I teased, tucking my phone back into my purse. He looped my arm through his, taking the opportunity he'd been given for its worth. "That reminds me, Hitler was actually an avid vegan. He recounted tales of the animals' slaughter on occasion to make sure his guests didn't want meals made of meat."

I giggled, "If she were a little more Wednesday Addams, I'd believe it."

He smiled, his fingers lacing through mine gently, "Are you sure you're alright?"

The handkerchief was sticking to my forehead. I was as alright as I could possibly be. We paused outside the second floor bathrooms for him to check my head, an obvious grimace of distaste crossing his face as he peeled it off my skin. "It's healing?" I asked with open awe. God I wished I could watch the flesh knit back together in an ever-so-Wolverine way. He nodded, dabbing my forehead and placing the cloth in my hands, "You may want to clean the blood off before class."

I leaned up and kissed his lips gently, "Carrie, keep him company?"

She smiled, nodding once. I placed my purse in her capable hands and stepped in. My clothes were visible in the mirror but not my figure, for which I was grateful. I must've looked a sight. Firstly, I ran some cool water through my bangs and blot-dried the violet dyed area that had been bloodied. Then, with the same cool tap, I dabbed my skin until no more of the orange-hued blood left my skin. Surely it was rubbed pink with scrubbing, but it was healed. I touched the source of the blood again and withdrew my fingers, pleased to find the touch clean. As I dabbed the area dry, I looked up and nearly had a heart attack. Instinct flashed to the forefront of my mind and I pulled harshly on the bell of my pin, a thin blade produced from inside. Most normal girls would've screamed, but I stood face to face with Van Hellscream like a professional killer. My parents taught me well.

"You are aware this is the bathroom for females, aren't you? Or did the skirt on the sign confuse you?"

He was unfazed by the threat in my voice, "You shouldn't have those in school."

"There shouldn't be a grown mortal in my bathroom. The tossups are in the theater. If you're experiencing some kind of confusion, I'd go there." My fingers tightened on the gold plated handle of my blade. I didn't fear him. I didn't fear sex and I didn't fear men. If he made a move, I'd cut it off and open up a new airway for him in under three seconds. He wasn't intimidated, but he didn't move toward me any. He wasn't as stupid as I'd pegged him for; he knew I knew how to use this blade and he knew I'd do it if he gave me a reason. I didn't sheathe it until I was at the door, and silently I walked back into the hall. The pathways were mostly deserted, but I took my bag and books from Carrie anyway. "Head on to class without me."

"What's wrong?" Bram asked, gently catching my arm. Like a good friend, Carrie went on with only a worried glance and no protest. I waited, pulling him to the side and keeping him silent until we watched Van Hellscream slink away like a rat, keeping to the shadows while hunting for the kitchen. His eyes nearly went black. I gestured to my chest, tapping my pin. "I fucking love you, Vinnie Stoker," he muttered. Meeting my eyes, he grasped my hand and tugged me off toward class, silently promising to talk more about this later. I knew he needed time to process what he didn't understand and what I had fully yet to grasp; all I knew was that I was going to be looking out for more than myself. It was my job. If Van Hellscream stepped out of line again, they weren't going to be able to find a murder weapon.


	56. Chapter Fifty-Six

_Chapter Fifty-Six_

The news of my triumph over Cleo de Nile won more hearts than I expected it to. Tiffany and her group of shunned pep-rally girls actually paused to let me by in the hall. I had risen as Countess; they now understood that it wasn't war that put me into the role before, it was my right. And when the werewolves retaliated after Tiffany acting out of place, I didn't help them either. I simply had Walter make up a flier of some of our preachings to keep their spirits up. I kept my parents updated on my happiness and, eventually, penned a letter to Maggie about the whole ordeal so far. She praised it highly. I was a true queen, she said, fit to be the Lady Devein. And a smaller enclosed letter from the current Lord had made my heart physically cease to beat for a moment. He had written little and signed his name, his formalities excused due to his words and how deeply they rang through my chest. Like a scripture, I had tucked them into the corner of the mirror to gaze upon religiously. Even Bram found pride in them. His pride in me had grown. It had been a silent ascent with little work and a lot of intuition- I refused to involve myself except where necessary. I waited, I watched, I learned, and I knew how to use it against everyone. No one was my friend but my family in their eyes, though they had no idea how wrong they were.

Van Hellscream had been in Monster High for nearly a week when tensions seemed ready to boil over. Spats between my lessors and the wolves had boiled over multiple times. The heat outdoors had risen and my blood boiled as much as theirs. It gave them no excuse to act so stupidly.  
Marcus snarled and shied away from the slamming of his locker, barely able to withdraw his hand before I could sever a finger. In the warm dampness of our darkened hall, the air hardly circulated. It felt like a fresh tomb, and by the defensive, predatory gazes of the vampires around me, I wasn't too far off.

"What do you want? To start another war?" I hissed, meeting each of their eyes. "In case you didn't remember, we lost quite a few last time. If I were in a hurry to kill the lot of you, I'd have done it already."

"We're almost even this time," Jacob snarled in reply. He was backed by a few quiet hisses and the sharp red line formed across his eye from the crack of some or other belt days ago still hadn't faded, though from his steely gaze, I assumed he'd regained sight in his eye.

"_Almost._ Almost doesn't win me a war." I stalked toward him, grasping his chin firmly and forcing him to meet my eyes, "If you think you can run this pathetic excuse of a Shade any better, by all means."

He backed down. I turned, glaring at the girls, watching them lower their eyes. My soul burned and boiled with bitter scorn; that's right, grovel at my feet. Grovel before the queen you tried to dethrone. Beg for mercy like the slave you've become. They thought I'd enslaved the zombies when it was my goodwill, my charity keeping them alive. I could walk away at any given time and let the wolves slaughter them, but I hadn't and I didn't yet. But I didn't intend to go to war over them. Ruth and Jonas knew. They wouldn't be involved if I had anything to do with it, but in inevitable war, the enemies of my enemies were my friend. Though which side were the greater evil I had yet to decide.

Bram entered our cavernous hideaway with his bag slung over his shoulder and proceeded to lower it, using its weight as momentum to throw upward onto a rafter beside my own. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing the pushed-up sleeves of his black shirt and the hard, firm muscle beneath. He smirked, tossing that upward too. It draped over the rafter like a battle flag, a silent calming of their nerves. We had different effects on them; he calmed, I incited their fury and their passion. Together, we were an unstoppable duo.

"Behave yourselves," he replied, making sure I understood that if Jacob had said anything else, I hadn't heard it. With a silent, sidelong glance, he dismissed them and watched as all but Jonas and Ruth evacuated the immediate vicinity. They would go find their zombies to make them feel special and hide away, sulking over the orders of their superior. The mental images made me beam while enthusiastically slipping my hands up over my fiancee's chest and winding my arms around his neck. He clasped my face gently yet excitedly between his hands, waiting until my arms had completed their circuit behind his neck to place a firm and desirable kiss upon my mouth.

"What's the occasion?" I murmured upon release, refusing to let go until I'd stolen another. His hands slid down my neck, sensually over my shoulders and down my back to press my body close to his. "I'm happy to see you," he murmured, stealing another for me, "Can't I be happy to see the woman I love and adore?"

"Maybe with good reason," I teased. Regardless of it, he placed warm, hungry kisses down my neck. I gasped in delight, twisting my fingers in his hair. Slipping my legs around his waist, I clung to him with intent to continue. He grinned, planting his hands firmly against the lockers and pushing up harshly. I giggled at the bumping of our hips. The blood was richer here, the lack of stress better for our health. I didn't know how we were so calm and so benefiting, but we were. In this cozy little town, wrapped up in each other, we were about to carry on to a new kind of warfare- and we fully intended to triumph.

He hung upside down from the rafter, fangs seeking purchase against my collarbone. I giggled, swatting his chest teasingly, "Bram. Mm. Stop that! It tickles!"

He chuckled against my skin and tugged my tie down a bit further, nudging the collar of my shirt aside a bit more to shower lovely little kisses over the ivory skin he bared. Running my fingers over his jaw, I giggled again as he grasped my hand and brought it to his lips. "You're going to make me fall."

His eyes met mine with defiance as he bit into my fingertip. I gasped in a mixture of pain and shock, attempting to pull my hand away, "Ow! You little shit! You planned that!"

He smirked around my finger, tracing his tongue over the bead of blood until the little wound sealed. He kissed my fingertip tenderly before grasping my chin and guiding my mouth back onto his. I protested with a put-out little pout. He squeezed my backside, chuckling at my yelp of surprise and kissing me regardless of whether I wanted to pout at him or not. "My parents have begun plotting with yours" he muttered, "they want your plans. Sean told me as a wedding present, he'll move out."

I laughed, unable to stay irritated for long, "Oh, but I just love your freeloading brother."

"Don't tell him that," he teased, giving me a squeeze. "What do you think? This petty drama will be over soon. We can stop being Socialites and Greasers."

"Social," I muttered, "They're the Socials."

He rolled his eyes; if there was one thing Bram had a weakness for, it was being corrected on anything. "I want to marry you," he said, purposefully enunciating every word. "I want you to abandon this little pursuit and come handle bigger problems with me. Like getting rid of Van Hellscream and the rest of their line so my family can have their power restored."

"Our family," I murmured, doubting yet again. He rolled his eyes and laced his fingers through mine, "I understand the love for my mother, but how did the rest of us slip through?"

Partially embarrassed with myself and partially influenced by his teasing, I blushed. "Because they created you. They must not be that bad."

He laughed, "Sean hasn't scared you away. I'm starting to think you're crazy enough to stay with me for the rest of our foreseeable lives."

"Starting?" I replied, equally as teasing as he. He broke into an angelic grin, his face so different from the wisdom in his eyes. My fingers caressed the collar of his shirt into smoothness against his shoulders, attempting to soothe the deep-set sorrow. "Let me put it all on one piece of paper and I'll send it to both of our mothers."

"Jackson going to enjoy being your maid of honor?" The humor in his grin was limitless. I shook my head, finally at a loss for words. I heard Jonas slip out and handed him his jacket, nudging our bags toward the sagging middle, "You don't want people thinking I'm not a lady, do you?"

He glanced toward the door of the unused classroom with a wicked glint in his eyes. How they held so much emotion and transitioned between them so quickly was beyond me; he should've continued drawing my sympathies, not causing a flush to rise in the rest of my body. "Isn't the best part of being a lady lying about it?" His tone was so warm, dripping with lust. He'd entered the newlywed stage before I'd even allowed myself time to process everything completely. I was busy dealing with a myriad of other things, running off to some sweet, secluded locale was hardly on my mind, but once it had crossed it...

"I don't want to go somewhere sunny and tropical," I said very gently and quietly, "but I also don't want to go out to the frigid middle of nowhere."

"Then where would you like to go?" He toyed with my tie, drawing me closer. Drawing my body nearer to his and causing my stomach to clench as I finally was guided into straddling his waist. A part of me hated how easily he could coax me into whatever he pleased, but the great majority of my self loved it. He was the only one capable.

"Romania," I murmured, "India. Rome. Amsterdam. London. Vancouver. Wherever you like, so long as I'm with you."

He smirked, testing the waters, "Texas?"

"Didn't I just say sunny?" I teased.

He chuckled, drawing my lips onto his with a formal finality. It satisfied the warmth in my blood just a bit, warm and tender and rich enough to penetrate my senses and slither down into the very center of my being, taking residence there like a little glowing bulb. He filled me with a kind of love like contained magma, warm and flowing and always bright. "Good," he breathed. I'd completely forgotten what we were talking about. I was only aware of a hunger that rivaled my material greed. Only he could bring out that hunger in me. I ran my fingers over his collar and removed it from its smoothness. Our eyes met and he grasped my hips, rising and colliding the both of our bodies sharply backward into the lowered ceiling.

As the footsteps first approached, I thought I'd simply kept Jonas waiting too long, until I realized they were smaller, lighter, and running. I pushed him back gently, breaking the contact of our mouths and dropping onto my back, flipping backward to catch sight of the little vampire taking refuge among her kind. My eyes widened, but I couldn't say I was entirely surprised. Draculaura was my best friend and once upon a time, she'd been one of us too. Bram had joined me and glanced to me with a raised brow before leaping down. I followed suit, catching up to her quickly. It took every instinct not to pull her in and allow her to sob out her frustrations in my shirt. Instinct told me I was partially to blame, though, so I held back for a moment.

"Hey. What's the matter, Draculaura?" His gentle words were accompanied by a tender nudge, like an inquisitive little brother or a comforting spaniel. If she wasn't so miserable, I might've smiled.

"N-nothing," her voice shook. It was a horrible, brokenhearted sound of a person trying to be strong when they didn't have an ounce of strength left. I knew what was coming, I'd done it many times not so long ago. "I'm..._fine._" Her voice broke on a sob, trailing off into a partial wail. Her hands clasped to her face and I drew her in immediately. "There there. We're here for you. We take care of our own." I rubbed her back, squeezing her tiny figure into my side. She clung to my shirt, wiping her eyes in vain. It only smeared black makeup across her pretty face, making them more sunken than they already were.

"Maybe you could think of joining our...cultural group," Bram began only to get the look of the devil out of me. I held her until her crying had mostly calmed, but knew if there were tears this severe, there were more to come. "Vampowerment," I added when her crying had slowed.

She looked between the both of us with wide, doe-like eyes, "I don't know."

"Think about it," I muttered, squeezing her shoulder and pulling her along with me. Her breath was beginning to quiver and I opened my locker, producing a full box of tissues and handing them to her, shutting it only to sink to the floor at her side. "Now what really happened?" Bram settled on her other side, silently agreeing to the both of us being there for her. She looked at the ceiling with tissues twisted in her shaking, makeup-smeared hands, "He left me. He said...I was becoming like you, and he left me."

I scowled, pulling her close, "Be honest with me sweetheart, how often did he tumble off high places as a toddler?"

She sobbed, clutching the tissue for dear life, "He was so cruel about it. They've _brainwashed_ him...Clawd never talks to me like that. He'd never hurt me like that."

I sighed, massaging her shoulders as I held her with all the strength I could muster. Her sobbing only intensified; it was as if someone had torn out her heart and slashed it open in front of her before throwing it on the ground and grinding it into the earth. It was beaten, broken, damaged beyond repair. Tiffany's mourning hadn't been like this. This was the agony of real love and real loss. I ran my fingers through her hair, rocking her and soothing her like a child.

"Boys do that, Draculaura," Bram murmured, patting her knee in the delicate white stockings, "We're stupid. We make mistakes and break the hearts of the best thing that ever could happen to us, and usually we remember just how special they are and apologize before it's too late."

She curled up into a tighter ball, her face flushed with the exertion of trying to hold her smashed chest together, and sobbed like she'd never had the force to sob before. She drooped sideways into my arms, comforted only by the unconditional love of another female. I wrapped her in my arms and tucked her fragile figure under my chin, nuzzling her as a mother would a cub. "It'll be alright," I murmured, "Just remember to breathe. He loves you. He'll come around."

"He's worse than a dog," she whispered, "He's a guy. Oh my god, why didn't I listen to my dad...I gave him everything, I thought we'd have forever..."

I drew her in even tighter, hoping that if I put forth enough love she could meld to me, become a part of my side so I would never have to fend off her pain this way again. She clutched my shirt and buried her darkly stained eyes into my shoulder. Under any other circumstance, I might've minded that she left a mark on my clothes, but not her. Not this way. It was never supposed to end this way.


	57. Chapter Fifty-Seven

_Chapter Fifty-Seven_

She had been like a wilted flower all day, drawing my concern even when she wasn't in my presence. I had gotten very used to Draculaura's unusually sunny disposition and feared for her now that it had come crashing down. In confidence, she had told me once that being happy, being different and trying to help others was the only thing keeping her from going insane with the guilt of her earlier life, the cause of which she still refused to tell me. Despite having a home full of pets to return to and things to do, friends to interact with and a life to enjoy, her world no longer held color now that Clawd had forcibly removed himself from it. It took Bram's hand resting firmly around my wrist to stop me from charging him in the hallway and planting my heel in his groin so hard he'd receive a sex change free of charge.

At the end of the day, as I packed up my locker and dismissed my zombie friends from their contrived place at my side, she came stalking up to me with such anger in her eyes that I thought maybe she'd actually lost her mind. She jammed her phone up in my face, his number plain as day on her screen, "He wants to _talk_ to me tonight. He wants to get back together. That...that...ooh!" From the light in her eyes, I could tell it pleased her more than she let on. I smiled, shaking my head, "Don't go. If the boy was petty enough to put his friends before you, then he deserves to get an icy reception."

"What if it was just a show for his friends? To get their loyalty?" she muttered, crossing her arms across her chest and sinking against the locker beside mine. Her clothes and her demeanor made her out to be a little goth Disney fairy. I forced myself not to smile at her adorable irritation.

"He's still got to learn from it somehow. If he won't bow down to you, you can make him." I shut my locker door, tucking one of the books from the library in my bag, sensing the shift in the air before it had even truly occurred. Bram appeared at my side, draping his arm lovingly around my midsection and pulling me just slightly closer to kiss my cheek, "Don't give away all your secrets. Not every poor bastard has to be as enslaved by their woman as I am to you."

Draculaura rolled her eyes. It was the most sass I'd ever seen out of the girl and I swore to myself it would likely be the most I'd ever see. I zipped my bag and draped my arm around her shoulders, tugging her in against my side while Bram took my bag. "He messed up. He may not mean it, but he did it. You have to make him want you. Make him realize that he can't live without you. He can't tie his shoes without you. If you decide to boycott him, you've damned mankind. Make him realize you're the most important thing in the world to him." She started smiling, blushing slightly, her hands freeing from their timid interlacing to grasp mine. We were pieced together like a chain and Draculaura wasn't making a move to escape it. Her fingers embraced mine with increasing confidence; for a princess, she really didn't have much of an ego. "Tell you what, you can come over tonight if you don't think you can handle being on your own in a house full of pets. Then you can preach to me about animal rights and why people aren't bigger wastes of genetic space than monkeys...and maybe tell me where to get Sabbath a playmate?"

"Of the reptilian nature," Bram said, drawing both of our attentions. I raised a brow. He smiled gently, "One with a tougher hide that she's less likely to bite."

"Reptiles are disgusting," I muttered, recalling pictures of Jackson's chameleon whose awful, slimy-looking tongue horrified me.

"Bird?" Draculaura questioned.

I shrugged, "I was thinking dog, actually. Something small and fluffy."

Bram laughed; I knew he was bringing up the vampire Pomeranian thought again and I shot him a look. "I meant Cocker Spaniel or Yorkie."

Draculaura sighed, "How about something that needs a home?" Her heart had obviously repaired if she intended to preach to me again. I smiled, "How about that movie?"

She shrugged, allowing us to walk her to her car to join her friends, "I don't know. We'll see."

"Text me," I murmured. A sudden possessiveness gripped my chest and I pressed a firm, red-lipped kiss into her fuchsia hair before releasing her to them. She shot me an embarrassed glance as if I were her mother and headed off for them, blushing at their confusion.

"You know, we'll probably end up with a giant Rottweiler that _thinks_ it's a Yorkie," Bram murmured in my ear before heading for the driver's side door. I rolled my eyes and went for the other side. We met in the middle as always. I set my bag at my feet and clasped my belt, speaking out loud but partially to myself, "You know what else we could do? Get one of those orange and white patch-cats and name him Jay Cats-by."

I didn't want to turn around to receive the look I was sure I was getting, but I felt it burning into my shoulder and could hardly hold back the giggles accompanying it. He put the hearse in reverse and muttered, "Why don't we just get you a Palomino and name it Ponyboy Curtis?"

I shrugged, pretending to be aloof while internally celebrating, "Why don't you?"

He rolled his eyes and laughed out loud, "Your birthday is Tuesday, and I am not getting a goddamned horse. I want Sean to leave, not have a stable to build to keep him here."

The fact that it was only his brother's presence and our lack of a stable keeping him from fulfilling my literary pun-based ideas made my smile open up to him. He stole a glance my way and broke into one of his own, taking my hand across the console and tracing his thumb lovingly over the engagement ring he'd placed there. "What do you really want? A castle? Because I can get you one."

I scoffed humorlessly, glancing to him, "Didn't I already get one?"

He smirked, "The cottage is hardly a castle."

I'd been to his home in Ireland once and I knew what a castle looked like to the Devein family. Wings they hadn't used in decades were kept up by a small army of staff on the occasion they could and likely would use them. It was a small nation on its own without the help of the surrounding city that spilled out into a large moor, separating it from the heart of Ireland. My house could eat my parents' and my grandparents' and have room for dessert. His wealth could've intimidated me half to death if I put enough care into it. Still, it was soon to be ours to share, a prospect that both delighted me and terrified me. I remembered the days of constraints and even though they seldom came nowadays- whether it be through good fortune or fading materialistic needs- the promise of being invariably set for life was relaxing.

"So, do you want another cat? A car? Throw me a hint, sweetheart."

I shrugged. There were pearls in my jewelry box, emerald earrings, amethyst rings. I had dresses made of silk and satin and lace. Our bed dressings were velvet. I had everything my heart desired. Granted, there were books and there were shows I hadn't watched, there were so infinitely many things to do with my life and my time that maybe I wanted an event, not a possession. The entire trip home, I contemplated. He looked at me expectantly as we pulled into the garage, but I shrugged, "I really don't know."

"You have four days," he reminded me, leaning over and kissing my cheek, "Decide."

I could've made it simple and told him that we could go shopping. I could drag Draculaura along, visit boutiques up and down Salem until we reached the mall, find something frivolous that I might not even wear and call it a birthday gift that would be officially mine day-of. In all my ideas, all of them fell short. I wanted something that nothing material could give me. I wanted to be a child again. I wanted meaning in my life, purpose. It was just falling short with the politics of nobility.  
I followed him inside and sat down on the bottom steps, welcoming Sabbath into my arms as she wandered down the stairs toward me. She did not rush to me like a dog, but the arrival spoke of more love than most cats were capable. She purred and nuzzled my chest and neck, welcoming the rubbing of her ears and back. Her delicate spine arched into the cup of my palm, snuggling in and promising warmth and delight for anyone that dared love her. I laid back across the steps and sighed, letting her sprawl across my chest in a mirror to me. "I wish I were a cat."

"That's not a wish either of us can grant, lassie," Sean teased, sliding partially down the railing and dropping over the other side. Sabbath settled in on my chest like a big, furry muff and refused to let me move. I closed my eyes and sighed. Sean ran his fingers from the edge of my sock to the edge of my skirt, tickling my skin until I aimed for his knee and kicked. He laughed, jumping back before my heel struck bone. "C'mon Gory, what's eatin' ya? This is the sorriest I've ever seen ya look, and I've seen ya sick."

I shrugged. Draculaura's predicament had left me thinking. I had more than most people would see in their lifetime. I had lived a very happy, full life. I was tired, tired of people, tired of living- but there was still so much more to do. If I hadn't been yet to get married, yet to graduate and live my leisure years with a little family and more pets, I might've added that I just wanted to be alone. Alone with him. Just in the quiet where I could think. Sleep. Children woke up early because they were excited about life, I was too old and growing too wise to have any excitement for living. Even the special things seemed pointless. Maybe I was depressed. Maybe I was too educated.

"I'm tired," I muttered, finally remembering to answer. Sabbath had settled in to sleep and I was destined to join her. With a roll of his eyes, Sean picked me up- bag and all- and carried me into the den to sprawl across the couch like Jordan Baker on a summer afternoon. If we'd had a ceiling fan, I would've watched it. Instead, as he left, I watched CNN and I waited. Surely the spark would come that gave me back my meaning. It always came. The hollowness of life, while I was always aware of it, never lasted very long. I was too busy to be hollow. I had too much to do to become so self-aware.  
Finally, the spark came, even though I wouldn't realize it until morning. It came in a text from Draculaura, simply worded, _I'm going to see him. I have to see what he wants. Call you soon._


	58. Chapter Fifty-Eight

_Chapter Fifty-Eight_

I fell asleep restlessly only to awaken after midnight in a panic that took hours to break, fearing that I wouldn't be able to breathe if I returned to sleep. When I had fully awoken, nearly five and a half hours rested and surprisingly awake, I fully comprehended that the panic attack had been completely illogical. Bram had hardly slept any better, but Sean was by far the more cheery and talkative one as he readied for work and we for school. Sabbath remained queen of the nest, a role she took happily.

It was not until I saw the empty space where the Escalade usually parked that I remembered Draculaura hadn't called. They'd likely made up and he'd spent the night attempting to make it up to her. She might've been able to fool Frankie Stein, but she couldn't fool me, especially not if she'd dated Valentine. The thought brought a smirk to my lips and Bram glanced at me curiously as we climbed out of the car, "That look worries me."

"My brother has likely scored with my best friend. I feel the urge to out-do him."

He laughed once, lightly, "At least you didn't set them up. Poor Valentine probably couldn't comprehend the grief when she left him for a boy like..." When his words trailed off, I focused my attention to the same pathway. Clawd and the other wolves were together, laughing, clustered in a pack. There was no Draculaura in sight. I knew I was jumping to conclusions, but a part of me flashed back to Isodora- she had never breathed a word of violence a day in her life, but she had been forced to fight in the end of it. She'd fought until she had killed and the dogs had killed her. My blood was gripped in coldness at the thought of delicate little Draculaura being forced to fend off boys bigger than her. These wolves weren't as animal as the ones we'd fought, they might've made an example of her. Tortured her. Worse. When the pack split up, the heat of wraith lurched into my blood and I stalked toward her lone wolf boyfriend, grabbing his wrist before he could open the trunk of his car and snarling into his face in a hushed, violence-promising tone. "Where is she?"

His eyebrows rose, "Who?"

"You goddamn well know who you insignificant little fleabag. What did you do?"

Every word was coated in malice; a threat would've been an understatement to attribute my words. I was promising him far better than I had ever promised anyone that should any harm have come to her, he'd be executed promptly. Concern filled his eyes, ducking his head a little closer. He was close enough for the heat from his body to radiate to me. Even on a relatively warm morning, it was still welcoming. His warm, intense, amber eyes bore into my own as the hushed tone of a chieftain- not a military king- passed his cinnamon icing lips. "Something's wrong with Draculaura, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know, you tell me. Why did you want to meet her last night?" At my accusing tone, his head snapped up, ears flattened against the sides of his head like a puppy and eyes wide with surprise.

"I didn't ask her to meet me last night. When did that...?" He was wracking his brain, it was clear in his eyes. He was thinking over anyone that had access to his phone in the past day. My hands were clenching and a scream burned the back of my throat.

"The end of the day, you asked her to meet. She assumed you wanted to apologize and ran off last night. She hasn't contacted me since, and she said she would." It was likely that she hadn't contacted anyone. If hitting him would've solved anything, I would've gone off. I would've beaten him half to death for breaking her heart in the first place, making her a desperate, deprived little creature that fell prey to them. He leaned on the back of the car, shaking his head, trying to process what I was saying. "She didn't see me. She didn't call..." He seemed to snap out of his reverie, straightening and snapping at me with panic lacing his tone, "Do you mean she's missing? She just...how do you lose a person!?"

"Again, you tell me, you half-wit!" I shouted. My calm had finally broken. The stages of shock were likely neck-in-neck to each other, but he was coming to the same conclusions I had met moments ago now. He sunk against the bumper and squeezed it, attempting to breathe, "It's all my fault."

"No shit," I replied, shouldering my bag, "Do you love her?"

His head raised.

"Do you love her?" I repeated, "Yes or no?"

"Yes," he murmured, "Christ I just...yes, I love her."

"Then start looking for her and hope she forgives you when you find her."

Maybe she had decided to run away. Maybe she had her bag and was hiking along the interstate. Maybe she'd gotten stood up and she stood there waiting, now she was crying at home in bed. Maybe she was sick. Maybe she'd gotten killed in a crash the way there or back. Maybe her body was buried in the park. While my thoughts took a turn for the macabre, I dashed up the stairs into the school and caught up to Clawd's friends, grabbing ahold of the alpha's jacket and whirling him around. His strong, slightly bony hand came down over mine firmly. I felt his claws digging into my skin and my fangs threatened to burst from my mouth and find purchase against his skin against my will. "Where is she?"

"Not here, leave a message," he replied, pushing my hand away. My fist balled and I wondered briefly if my engagement ring would leave a mark on his face if I hit him hard enough.

"Where the fuck is Draculaura?" Bram asked, stepping up beside me and straightening to his full height. I didn't have the patience to put up with these little games; apparently, neither did he. Romulus looked him directly in the eyes and said very calmly, very darkly, "Where's Howleen?"

Honestly if there was one of theirs and one of ours missing, there was a great chance they were together. I grasped Bram's hand, silencing him and guiding him into following along with my plan. It was a last-ditch effort that I was hoping would work, at least to an extent. "We'll discuss yours once we've gotten ours back, understood?"

His eyes flashed dangerously, "You know where she is?"

Mine should've been shining with the promise of more blood than he could hold in his body if he didn't back down now. "Only if you have a little vampire for me."

He met my eyes and my fiancee's before laughing in both of our faces, "Fuck you. I want Howleen, then we talk."

"You're not getting your little runt until I have what's mine, do you understand me?" Bram half-growled, releasing my hand to step forward and directly into the sphere of Romulus's personal space. The werewolf sized him up from his polished shoes upward, meeting his gaze with one of ferocity and defiance, "How about no?"

They could've thrown punches there, but we heard steps and smelled human. The last thing I had wanted to deal with was Van Hellscream. The werewolves stood down and gave us a berth of space, an isle for the authority figures to walk through. The headmistress eyed all of us in our glory; teeth gnashed, fingers twisted into fists, rings glinting as they threatened to smash on violent impact. The hunter parted the crowd like the red sea, passing beside me and saying loud enough for only me to hear, pausing on the step beside me to speak in my ear, "Follow me and I will explain."

I glanced to Bram. He stared at them, cold-eyed with his strong jaw locked in a scowl. His strong muscles were tensed, but he was too honorable of a Lord to throw the first punch in an unfair fight. I promised him a quick return with my eyes and did so. I had no reason to trust this man, but information made the enemy at times the friend, and the enemy of my enemy was surely thus. I followed him all the way down to the office and ignored the anxious tightening of my stomach. He entered, allowing me the freedom to go and enter as I pleased. Hesitantly, I stepped over the threshold and into the now-cluttered little room. It held trunks, the contents of which I was sure could kill me and everyone else in this building, artifacts of intriguing origin and more secrets than I would've liked to comprehend. As he sat at the desk, I shut the door behind myself and met his gaze directly, "Cut to the point, Mister Van Hellscream."

He leaned on his elbows with such a poker face that I would've expected him to suddenly take up blackjack. I couldn't read a thought, much less an emotion. It was terrifying and incredibly unnecessary, but it only made sense. He was a professional. Surely he knew, on a professional level, that if he made the wrong move, I wouldn't hesitate. "Do you still have that blade in your pin?"

"You remembered," I replied in an overly peachy, sarcasm-dripping snap. My emotions were fighting for dominance, a fear for myself and Draculaura becoming the underbelly of my grief at having failed to keep her home safe. My rage had taken the forefront of my emotional consciousness effortlessly; I hated him. I hated them. I could experience nothing but hatred and a lust to rid myself of it permanently.

"From what I've gathered, they do have your friend, though I do not know where. For the moment, she's alive. For how long, I do not know." The coldness that had been in my blood settled in my spine. I wanted to shiver, maybe even allow myself to sit and process the angry tremors threatening to cause my hands to shake. I swallowed, glancing to my shoes to compose myself before meeting his steely emerald eyes once again, "And their friend?"

He smiled simply, "At home, ill. But you have her with others. There are more of you."

The compliance sent a surge of relief through my body. Rage was red, sorrow blue, guilt an inky black and fear a trembling emerald green; the relief was white, released with such force it caused the other colors to dispel like a surge of ink. I breathed deeply for the first time in his presence. "You'd consider helping us?"

"I'm simply a bystander," he replied, "I help no one. But I can report to either side what I know."

It was either the most help we'd get or a very large bluff. From their actions, I wanted to believe that it wasn't a bluff. I wanted to have absolute certainty that I didn't have and couldn't acquire without time- and time was not on my side. Time was never on the immortals' side.

I nodded, allowing the white to puddle in my eyes, even if it was held inside. He smiled slightly and as I turned to go, called out, "In a war like this, there are no victors."

I laughed, raising my head. "My grandfather was a slave owner, Mister Van Hellscream." I turned, just slightly to assess his reaction. "Even when your people thought they were winning, he would overtake them and turn them into his playthings until they grew tired, weak, and died. We've been winning this war since the dawn of time, no reason we shouldn't now."

He smiled, "They have equality to you."

I pulled open the door, "That's because we let them have it." Any game could start anew. Any rule could be changed. The world was made of many kinds of people, but we were all one in nature; we were children, waiting to be amused. The rules were frequently changed, the objective always different, but in the end, we were still children playing a game and waiting for something grander and far more pointless. There were no winners and no losers because everything was a game. Everything was simple in essence. Human beings, like the rest of us, tried to overcomplicate it. I thought nothing of it as I returned to my game, ready to place my pawn at their king and call my checkmate.


	59. Chapter Fifty-Nine

_Chapter Fifty-Nine_

The clock's ticking was infuriating. Agitated, I shifted in my seat and glanced toward the door. He was off doing god knows what, planning without me. We should've been together, exempt from studies on account of racial tension. My fingers thrummed on the tabletop. Jackson shrank in his seat a bit more. The vampires around the room sat in scattered bursts, fully arisen and dark-eyed with fury. The werewolves' ears flattened against their skulls, too timid to fight but hardly cowardly enough to back down. A part of me felt a sharp pang of doubt; some of these boys were hardly teenagers. They wouldn't last in a fight with us. Looks had been deceiving, I knew that firsthand. I appeared quiet, quiet enough to slip into the background and watch without detection. The girls had appeared to be my friends and all but Ruth had proven me wrong. My straying mind, errantly wondering how she and Walter were doing, provided me a moment of relief before the bell. I had not unpacked my bag, I saw no use when I couldn't focus. Instead, I was on my feet and out the door ahead of them all. Bram met me in the hall, headed toward our private corner and in turn, summoning the others to follow.

We gathered there, dark eyes locked upon each other like snakes in a pit. Some of the boys were so eager, I thought they'd start brawling right then and there. It occurred to me very suddenly that I had never thought of them the way someone else surely had. Just because we were independent individuals didn't mean we didn't have families that feared for us. Just because my family, and Bram's, were proud to the point of arrogance and would never believe we could fall once we'd risen, didn't mean the others' parents had wanted them to continue along with us when so many of their classmates- their colleagues's and friends' children- had been slaughtered. As I stopped by Bram's side, I realized that we were about to lead them into what we'd led them out of. He turned, his eyes meeting mine in questioning, and I felt nothing but solid disgust. Our crusade was very surely not worth more lives. There was pride in his eyes. Pride met the opportunity and collided, swirling and layering upon each other until they became a lust for conquest measurable only to Genghis Khan, Hitler and Alexander the Great. I had known all along he would try to become one of the few great men to conquer as much of the world as he could hold in his hands, but even he must've known that it was only a dream. Someone we cared for was in danger, we couldn't try to repeat the past now.

There wasn't an ounce of that realization in his eyes, especially not as he took up his rightful place before them. I stood silently, ignorantly, by his side; I was a real queen. Whether I was included or not didn't matter, because he was still king and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would support him regardless. My love for him bordered on obsession and in turn, his for me. I set down my bag and thought of the book inside it, how Gatsby had bought Daisy a palace, thrown lavish parties to show her he could, thrown himself into all that he ever wanted and all that he desired and in turn, gave it all to her and all of himself until there was nothing left but shattered dreams. I slid my fingers into his, promising him my loyalty. I could be aware all I liked, but it was true loyalty to lie to them to aid him. We were evenly matched. The odds were in our favor, and yet I felt as if they were greater an enemy than the past. They were smarter, likely stronger. They weren't animals versus man, and to this day I questioned whether I was the animal or the man for the sheer amount of killing we had done. It was beautiful, hopeful and careless. There was caution in my breath for fear that we hadn't been cautious enough all along and the surprising knowledge had taken residence in my mind the way the wolves were sure to do to our forces.

"They want to face us tonight," he said calmly, as if he were speaking to me and not our tiny army, "Sundown, inside the gym. There has been enough bargaining done on both of our parts to ensure this place will be empty. We will be free to do what we do, so long as we clean up afterward." He rose his chin, eyes glinting wickedly as he spoke. "We're going to have to call a clean up crew then, boys, because we're going to wipe the floor with them."

His confidence sounded of stupidity, but my hand never fell. The love stories in which they didn't think they were going to die were always the ones that got glorified. Maybe I was being overly dramatic, but the last time had proven worse than we had dreamed. I stood beside him, knowing with all of myself that the possibility of losing him and going beside him was a very real possibility and I stood there anyway. I knew without a doubt that if someone had promised the girls in the stories that they'd have a happy, fruitful life, they would've chosen to live. Somehow the threat of another set of claws in my chest didn't seem so bad when I looked back at my life away from him and remembered that my only source of happiness had come in being alone. I wouldn't return to it even if someone would tell me that I would have a happy, fruitful life. The fruit wouldn't be happy. He was my Gatsby, and in true Carraway fashion, I clung to his hope like a green light at the end of a dock because I had none of my own.

A few of the boys cheered. Ruth shifted, quirking her head and crossing her arms over her chest, "What exactly did we bargain with, and with whom?"

Bram broke into a wide smile, glancing to me and squeezing my hand, "Van Hellscream has agreed that he will leave and never return to vampire lands if we win this fight. The most powerful family of hunters has agreed to back us if we continue further in the future, provided that we win now."

My chest was tight. I knew instantly that it was not a bargain for us. He'd made it with the other team, just as he'd told me that he knew what he knew. He didn't know. He was playing us like lutes to get us to go to war and do his job for him. Surely he'd wait until the last had gone and the victor of them all stood, then he would kill them and call it an accident. We had gone to war, stupid children, and we had killed each other. They might've fallen for it, but I didn't. They were excited by greed. No matter how much I loved him, I would not die for them. He was my world, he would be worth it- they were not.

"Go," he said like a preaching general, calling his people to arms, "Rest. Feast. Ready yourselves, because- I've always wanted to say this- tonight, we rise!" Honestly, he was in such a good mood that I half-expected him to quote _300._ He stood there, grinning, until they'd dispersed. I seized the opportunity and his shoulders, drawing him close with an almost desperate grip. He beamed, catching my arms and pulling me closer in turn, his eyes glinting like precious gems. He kissed me warmly, but my worry ran deeper than that. I withdrew without kissing him in return. He understood instantly. "Gory-"

"I'm not doing this and neither are you," I replied, meeting his eyes. For once, I was the queen and I was getting a say. "Let them go to war if they please but this isn't war. This is a set-up. For Christ's sake, Bram, you're going to get killed. Even if you win, Van Hellscream is going to eliminate you."

"Sweetheart-" he began, trying gently to persuade me otherwise.

"No," I snapped, firmly, "Shut up and listen to me. He doesn't know where Draculaura is, no one does! You have to-"

"Gory-" he said while I was speaking.

"-bloody well _listen to me!"_ I couldn't have said it any sharper without drawing attention. I hit his chest, I was too infuriated to put up with this any longer. He looked at me with growing surprise. "You're not a king!" I nearly shrieked, "You're a teenage boy! A teenage, Irish-American boy! You're nobility, sure, but it's a figurehead title! You mean nothing to them anymore! You mean everything to me! Goddamn it, Bram!" There were tears in my eyes, searing the rims and threatening to stain my glasses on their leave. I wanted to throw my glasses against the wall and rip my hair out in protest. "I don't care about losing my friends, don't you understand that? What's the most precious to me is safe, but not you. I won't lose you."

He stepped forward, grasping my arms and pulling me closer despite my shaking head. I planted my hands on his shoulders, trying to keep a distance. My elbows folded in against my will, allowing him to press his forehead to mine. The tears descended my face like the traitors to my emotion they were. I had always prided myself in being hard and cold enough to never let it show, but I was afraid. I was so close to having my happy ending that any peril to it was too much. He asked too much. His hands ran lovingly to my back, up my shoulders to cradle my face while my fingers wound in his shirt and clung to his chest.  
"I promise you," he whispered against my mouth, "I promise you that if things turn, we'll go. We'll jump ship, I promise. I won't go down with the Titanic and neither will you."

"You can't promise that," I breathed, trying one last time to find my resolve. He was my best friend, my better half. He was all that I had. Yes, I could be strong. I was stronger than most men, in body and in mind, but with him I had let that guard down and I found it impossible to fight the place I'd left myself in. He listened to me, but he wasn't listening now. I didn't know how to handle this, and I wasn't ready to find out.

"I can," he whispered, caressing my hair slowly. His fingers ran across seemingly every strand on either side of my head, the touch of his fingers percolating down to my scalp and warming my skin as if he'd kept hold.

"Bram, please," I begged, "For me. Please. Trust me. You always trust me."

He grasped me tighter, his arm falling to wrap around my torso and pin my chest to his. I felt as if he were breathing for me. Two halves, so easily merged to one. What I wouldn't have given to lose my mind in his and see his reasoning, why my agony was worth his triumph. What did he have to win when he was already the son of God? There was no better way to explain it; he must've been Lucifer. I must've loved the devil himself.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered, brushing his fingertips sensually against my spine. It wasn't fair. He knew me too well. It wasn't fair. It would never be fair.

"Only you," I murmured, both reminding him and acknowledging that everyone around us wouldn't care if we were dead at the very same time. Possibly a few of them even wanted us dead, Van Hellscream included.

"I will not let any harm come to you," he replied, kissing my forehead, "I promise."

"You're making a lot of them. Are you sure of how many you can keep?" It was a low blow. I saw it in his eyes instantly, the agony that I would dare accuse him of letting me go to fight his own war. His hold on me tightened, bordering on control. I could've melted. I would've had I not been so...infuriated. Distraught and infuriated.

"I love you," he reminded me. He didn't even give me a chance to reply before kissing me firmly, harshly, driving the reminder home. He pressed me close, whispering in my ear, "You're worth more to me than all of this and I will never, ever let you forget that. I know my limit, Gory. I do trust you. Now it is time that you trust me too."

He withdrew to meet my eyes, gentle ruby seeking the hope in mine. Ambition was an understatement. Like everything he did, Bram Devein loved obsessively. He fought obsessively, he planned obsessively, and he had thus far emerged the victor. I ran my fingers gently over his cheek, fearing that this time the king would fall. He watched Merlin, he knew. But he gathered my hand and brought it to his lips, kissing my fingertips and then my palm very gently before pressing it once more to his cheek and holding it there. I sighed and allowed my will to fall like the vampiric empire. "Fine," I murmured, "I can't stop you anymore. I just won't try."

Those words had stung more than the last, but they rang with truth. For the moment, I had given up on trying to change his mind. That itself gave him a chance to do it without my help.


	60. Chapter Sixty

_Chapter Sixty_

The sun set late at night, late enough for Sean to finish his plans for his job and get things in order to come with us. I let Sabbath have the bedroom to herself, all bundled up for morning just in case. Vinnie would have to be better at taking orders than I anticipated; I left him a long message while he was offline detailing exactly what was going on and what I wanted done in the chance that we would be driven to a quick escape and hiding out in our palace of a house. I didn't mention that there was a slim chance we wouldn't get there. I didn't mention it to myself for the majority of the afternoon and evening while I made the boys dinner and tended to my homework, my flowers and my cleaning. I finished my book and snuggled Sabbath for hours on end, and when the sun was fully sheathed behind the horizon at nearly eight, we departed for town on foot.

I could've never told either of them, but I had a blade tucked in the ties of my corset. The fight was supposed to be fair and it was. I didn't plan on using it unless they planned on fighting to the death, in which case I wouldn't hesitate. I wondered, vaguely, if the first kill would be an accident. I wondered, a bit more morbidly, if we'd even get to that before Van Hellscream turned on us. The others joined us on the street, some confident enough not to carry a weapon and others trying to hide theirs. We headed our army the way a king and queen were supposed to, Sean at our flank as our general and Jonas as his partner. As we neared, Bram reached out and grasped my hand silently. Our fingers laced together, forming the united front that, even when our hands fell, would never break.

They were already waiting. Half the boys were clad in leather jackets and sleeveless shirts like the hoodlums they were. Vinnie would've glared at me to see them that way, but it was true. I glanced them over, taking note of a few hidden bulges, likely switchblades or heaters. We paused less than a yard apart. They fanned out behind us, showing our numbers against theirs. Despite the obvious play that we could've made, Bram and I still remained ahead of them. Romulus rose his chin, taking a deep breath slowly, "I don't want to kill you."

"Nor do we, you," Bram replied, "First to retreat, then?"

He nodded. There was agony in his emerald eyes. There was agony in mine, and I hoped he knew. His beta stepped up at his side. I glanced among them and found no trace of Clawd. Like the friend of the murdered Soc, he had neglected to come to our rumble. There was a massive amount of poetic irony in our situation. All we needed were the star-crossed lovers. Deugi was huge; he could probably crush me in his arm. Our fingers slowly began to slip apart. I only had to incapacitate him, even if it would be like taking down the hulk. I could do it. I raised my head, puffed up my chest and allowed my fingers to fall. They took it as the battle signal, and Romulus charged Bram. My weapon was a last resort, but I glanced to him briefly before taking off at the beta.

Deugi threw a punch like a mac truck. I ducked to the side, allowing Jonas to catch the hit. He grinned, his eyes dancing with cruelty and insanity the way they had months ago. Leaping mid-air, I struck out with the steel tip of my boot and knocked him over like a feather. My hand caught Jonas's and I swung him behind me, countering the wolf that had taken his place. A blond female leapt at me. I slammed my foot into her knee. There was a crack and she howled as she went down. A sudden surge of terror snapped my head upward to watch the alpha wolf and my fiancee tearing into each other. I leapt over the males locked in combat into the circle of space between them. Slashes coated Bram's arms, red swelling to the surface and spilling outward. He'd been hit more than once directly to the face. He'd gotten revenge. Time seemed to slow down as I leapt onto Romulus's back. My arm locked around his throat in an unshakable sleeper hold. I knew when to let go. I'd watched them before. Sean seemed to notice the both of us a moment too soon. There was a deafening crack that put silence into my ears. Romulus froze and I leapt away. Bram's eyes went wide and his hands fell, his attention fully diverted. No one moved, no one breathed. I could hear nothing but silence for a moment until the deafening sound of everyone's pulses resumed in my attention. There was a familiar, desperate cry, "_Stop!_"

My eyes were locked with scarlet ones. I couldn't look at them, I didn't want to acknowledge them, that would be taking moments away. I was the first one to rush to Sean, to catch him before his knees gave out beneath him. He was heavy, his blood spilling onto my shirt, staining my skin, staining my heart. I clasped my hand over the wound, but it was no use. It had gone completely through and I was aware of that. It was a hollow, desperate sound that attempted to be a pulse. Bram had been at my side in the ghost of a breath, grasping his brother's face, shaking him harshly, "Sean...Sean..."

He grasped Bram's shoulder forcefully, unwilling to let the little breath he had waste. There was horror in his eyes, his hands grasping desperately to keep his brother up, to halt the bleeding as I had tried. It poured out around my fingers, thick and warm. But he met my eyes and he breathed. "Take care of him."

"No," Bram gasped, "No. Goddamn it Sean, no. Breathe. I'm...I'm getting you to a hospital."

"I called." Never before had Romulus's voice been so welcome, even shocked.

He shook his head, silently conveying that it was too late for that. It had been too late a second the bullet had pierced him. He gripped tightly, though; he couldn't breathe and yet he tried. He wasn't going to go without a fight and it made my heart all the more desperate to repair his. "Not yer fault." He thought ahead, absolving his brother of the guilt before it had the chance to take root. I moved my hands and ripped into my wrist with my teeth, pressing it to his chest, allowing my blood to flow with his and work to fix the wound twice as fast. Bram, in a movement, tore open his and jammed it into his brother's mouth. Sean clamped on, attempting, but within moments I knew it had been in vain. I felt the repair, the singular beat without blood. It stopped. He became entirely limp in my grip. Bram withdrew his arm, widening the wound, pouring his blood into his brother's throat desperately. "Come on Sean, please! Goddamn it, you little shit, breathe! Do this for me!" He threw me a look, his eyes wide and desperate with grief. Wordlessly, I threw my weight into trying to force his heart to pump. There was a soft thump and the boy who had shot him crumpled to his knees, tears running over his face. He was just a kid. My fiancee was sobbing and it was the most vivid sound I had heard in my entire life, musical and beautiful and agonizing at once. I hit his chest over and over, pushing until my elbows ached. Jonas dragged Bram back, his face whiter than snow. His breathing was labored, desperate, yet his blood still flowed and he tried to increase it. Remembering Sean's words, I abandoned him and crawled toward Bram, catching him before he could go too far and placing my lips to his wrist. He snarled, attempting to wrench away. I gripped his arm tightly, forcing it to stay in place. Bruises bloomed like watercolors under my fingers, but I lapped his skin until it healed over. He sobbed and pushed me away, withdrawing into a ball of betrayed glares. "Why aren't you helping him!?" he shouted, his voice broken and wrought with grief. Tears ran so freely down his face that it flushed slightly, only around his eyes. I crawled closer, pulling him near and placing warm kisses to his cheeks and eyelids. He tried to turn away like a petulant little boy, but I held him close to me until he gave in. His head dropped against my chest.

"I can't," I whispered, "I made a promise."

His eyes closed. He was listening to my heartbeat, knowing that only moments ago his brother's heart had beat the same. I took my healing wrist and placed it to his lips, brushing my fingers over his jaw until he stirred. "Tap," I murmured, "Just get a little blood into your system. Please."

He shook his head, refusing to budge. Maybe it was occurring to him that he'd lost his masculine dignity. I didn't care. I wrapped my body around his, clinging to him, protecting him from the prying and judgmental gazes of the others around us.

Sean gasped wildly and my head snapped up. Bram bolted from my arms, crawling to his brother and slapping his face gently. He shook him lightly, trying to focus his eyes. Sean's hands reached up, grasping Bram's. For a moment, I felt nothing but hope until the labored breathing and unfocused gaze refused to fade. The boy who had thought he killed a man began to cry with relief. I felt Draculaura at my side, her gentle and calm voice displaced from its usual strength. "We need to get him to the Steins."

Bram looked up at her as if she were half mad, but then over her shoulder. I turned my head, forcing myself to part my gaze from him for a moment. Draculaura extended her hands like a messiah, promising salvation if we would just give up our crusade. I clasped my hand into hers and allowed her to pull me to my feet. Her boyfriend and his sister lingered behind Abbey, Frankie, Howleen and Headless Headmistress Bloodgood. Our authority figure was in shock. She stared at the beaten boys and the girls attempting to tidy themselves. She looked at the lawn and listened to the approaching siren. Draculaura was looking at me, not at them, as if she knew that I was the only one who could repair this.

"Go home," I said, calmly and clearly. "Now. Go home, clean up, forget this ever happened." Forget we ever hated them. The vampires and the wolves obeyed my words freely, but Romulus didn't budge. Jonas propped up Deugi and glanced toward him, "Where d' you want your friend, boss?"

"The truck," Romulus said simply. His lip was split, his nose broken and bruises, so many bruises, covering his visible skin that I wondered if he was in too much pain to move. I rose a brow in question and held back the half-terrified, half-relieved tears. He turned before the boy could leave, "Darry. The gun."

"No," I said firmly, drawing both of their attention. "Give it to me."

The boy looked between the two of us and ran to me, placing the gun in my hands and running away after the others. Romulus looked at me as if he expected me to kill him. Instead, I released Draculaura's hand and walked toward the others. They parted like the sea, their eyes full of fear. I stared into the open abyss of the catacombs and flung it. There was a sharp crack. A splintering of plastic. There was no clatter, only silence. There was dull pain in my side. I pulled my shirt up to find the leather sheathe had ripped and my knife had buried into my skin, piercing the skin. Draculaura turned away. I withdrew it and brushed away the blood, "Well. Now we all have battle wounds."

There was a sound from my fiancee that sounded like a choked laugh mingled with a sob. I glanced to the others, unaffected, and to Miss Bloodgood. "Go home. It'll be alright."

"The superintendents will be here soon," she replied. I laughed out loud. Suddenly, it all made sense and I glanced to Bram with darkness in my eyes. He looked at me as if he'd seen me for the first time from an outsider's perspective, and I grinned. "You take Sean. I'll catch up."

...

Frankie had gone with Bram and Sean. The wolves were forced to depart by Draculaura having to contact her father and give him an abridged story. Abbey lingered with the Headmistress and her horse, and Jonas took the other wolf home. Dracula had emptied a rainstorm upon us and Draculaura had tended to the cut as well as mending my sheathe. By the time they approached, with the exception of Romulus, we were all patched up and out of sight. In fact, when Bloodgood had returned, we knew it was her instead of her imposter- a story that had come about in the time passed in the gym. Draculaura held the little box of Gorgon dust and waited at my side.

"Thank you," I murmured to her before their arrival. "They're a useless group. You and Bram are worth the whole lot put together."

She smiled, "Thank you, Mister Carraway."

I grinned and placed a gentle kiss to her temple, something she didn't shy away from. Instead, her hand rested gently on the hem of my skirt. Her eyes were calm, warmer and darker. Richer with knowledge and fearlessness. "I did a lot of thinking down there. I thought we were going to die. I thought...without a shadow of a doubt...I have feelings for you too."

I smiled, squeezing her shoulders and drawing her close to my side. "It's alright, you know. You can love more than one person." I would admit with every breath that I didn't know how, but the girl was special. She may not have been close to Bram on the level of my love for another person, but at the point I was in, she was rivaling, if not slightly exceeding, Vinnie Stoker. "You need someone to be yourself around. Blood, or no blood, drinking, likely pan-sexual, kind-to-a-fault Draculaura that you are."

"Volunteering?" she teased.

"I volunteer as tribute." I couldn't have been more proud of her. I couldn't have had more trust in her. But finally, as Bloodgood led Van Hellscream to us, she stood. I let her. Abbey got up and grinned, slicking the floor to him and freezing the mortal in place. He stared at me and I waved, mustering a smirk. "Still trying to prey on minors? Last time I checked, that was a felony for your kind."

Draculaura flicked down her shades and smiled, "Everybody...close your eyes."

Bloodgood stepped away and smiled. I closed my eyes and murmured, "_Vive le coup."_


	61. Chapter Sixty-One

_Chapter Sixty-One_

When the statue of Van Hellscream had been shoved off the steps and into the abyss of the catacombs and the statue of the former teacher hidden away in isolation, Draculaura drove me toward the monster hospital. At her request, I stashed my blade under the seat of the Escalade. It was a longer drive than I expected, and I drifted for most of the ride. Through my slow-blinking eyes, I took notice of Draculaura a little better than I had before. I had pegged her to be this sweet, delicate, innocent little creature that had no idea what she was doing, but as she drove, I knew she had every inclination of what she had done and would do. I had thought her father sheltered her, but I knew a little too well that she had traveled the same path as I was now and she had the battle scars to show for it. Her grip on the wheel was tight, and after a long while grew shaky. I roused myself, unbuckling my belt to scoot closer to her and place my hands on top of hers. She calmed nearly instantly.

"You love him," I muttered, laying my head on her shoulder. She nodded, grateful for the conversation. "Why?"

I wanted to get her talking. After a few deep, paced breaths, it seemed to work. "Clawd is good to me. I've been in love before with...a less than perfect boy. I came here and I knew the Wolf family personally. I helped raise his father and I helped raise his father's children, him included. He knew me as well as he knew them. He's always been sweet, kind, generous...he's not pretending for me. And I love him for who he is, not what..." She shrugged slightly, displacing my head. I sat up grudgingly, shifting to keep only one of my hands over hers, but it was still enough. She was calm, at least for the moment. "He may not have much money, but he has a good heart. He loves me, and it's real. I can't ask for much more."

I nodded, lowering my glasses to rub my eyes. I sensed she was about to continue, but she kept the space between us blessedly silent to allow me to regain my consciousness. I felt the car pull off and glanced up, breaking into a grin at the side of a drive-thru. "So a couple of vampires pull into McDonalds..."

"Shh," she hissed, holding back her grin. God she was beautiful when she tried not to smile. There was a dark wittiness in her eyes, grim and ghastly humor as honest as my own that she refused to let loose. Without a shadow of a doubt, I knew that she had been very much like me, once upon a time ago. She got the both of us coffee and paid for it without asking, a very princess-like move that I came to realize was the source of my respect for her. She didn't ask when someone needed something, she knew. She acted upon the needs of others selflessly and with all the love in her heart possible. I envied it to a degree; I didn't have the capability for human sympathy that she did. Regardless, as I woke up and she remained gripped by sobriety, she managed to get us to the hospital in one piece. Like I'd expected, she parked quite a ways away to ensure the people who needed the front spaces could have them, and climbed out with expectation for me to walk.

I thanked the gods for flats and hopped out of the car, careful not to disturb my coffee. We strode across the parking lot and slipped in a side entrance. I allowed her to lead me to the elevator, bypassing security and nurses stations like a professional. It was comforting to know that we could walk in silence and expect nothing of each other. She took me up to the third floor and led me down the main hall to a cluster of rooms that she gestured to broadly with her hand, "Doctor Stein's ward."

I rose a brow, "I thought he was a professor or something. An experimental physicist?"

Her lips twitched wryly and it was quite possibly the most attractive thing I'd seen on a girl's face before in my life. "Doctor Stein isn't Viktor."

For a moment, I thought I'd see Frankie in a lab coat and scrubs, but a flood of relief overcame my entire body at the delicate, feminine Doctor Stein stepping out from a room. She smiled to us and left the door open. I smiled gratefully, slipping past her and allowing Draculaura to murmur our thanks.

Bram glanced up, exhausted gratitude in his eyes. I beelined for him, my arms outstretched, glad when he rose that he wasn't in too badly a state. His arms wound around my waist desperately, crushing my body against his as if I were the last tangible thing in the world. I wound my arms around his neck, crushing him to me with the same force, careful of my coffee cup against his shoulder blade. I peppered warm kisses to his jaw and neck, my fingers brushing his skin to return the nerve sense to him. He was warm to the touch; the good doctor had at least kept him fed.

"He's lucid," he muttered, "That's the only good part."

I withdrew slightly to place my half-full cup in his hand. He lifted it to his lips gratefully. I had come to realize very quickly that it was only in cases of trust and extreme exhaustion that Bram forgot his absolute paranoia of germs, and this happened to be a case of both. I glanced at Sean and took note of his sedation, his peacefully rising and falling chest. I perched beside him, taking his tenderly rough fingers in my hands and upturning his palm. His skin was flushed and warm, his blood supply replenished as well. "Is he alright?" I murmured, tracing the lines of his palm.

Bram sighed and sunk back into the chair, shrugging, "The next forty-eight hours or more are critical. His body's in shock. They had to put him in a coma to get him to calm down and heal..." The mere mention of the events I'd missed were painful. I reached out and grasped his knee, giving a gentle squeeze. He propped his chin up in his palm, leaning on the arm rest for support. Not even half a coffee removed the exhaustion from his eyes. "I can stay with him," I murmured. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes under pinched fingers before extending his hand for my phone, "I need to call my parents."

I nodded, placing my iCoffin in his palm and pressing a kiss to his cheek before he slipped out. Draculaura took up the seat he had been in, glancing to Sean with intrigue and curiosity. "I've never seen a vampire get shot before," she murmured.

I shrugged, warming his already warm fingers between my hands. "We're just like everybody else. We should die if we get shot and don't have enough energy to repair."

The curiosity never left her eyes. If anything, it grew as she shifted closer, seeming to stare into my very past. It was unnerving and intriguing. "What's it like to be faced with certain death and want to live?"

I blinked. The question would've shocked anyone who hadn't seen it coming, but I shrugged. "I've never been a huge fan of living. My parents have always kept me well learned, it took the excitement out of life early. I knew what monstrosities I was living with, but for some reason...this was always better than being dead. At least I exist here, just in case the dead are faced with never-ending nothingness." Her eyes fell. I closed mine, attempting to find the thought I had been searching for. "There's a moment of panic. You think to yourself _oh my god. I'm dying. I'm finally fucking dying, and I'm going to go out like a badass._ I don't know about him, but I've always felt...excitement. Despite knowing so much, I'm always reminded by libraries and new locations that I don't know it all. Peter Pan really wasn't lying when he said dying was an adventure, it really is. There's sorrow, because you know that you'll never get what you don't have. Your time ran out. Your legs give out and you get cold, right at the wound...and you're still so sad. It just spreads with the cold until your whole body's shaking, and then there's this...light. You're light. You're alright with it, because the worst is over. Even in the worst injuries, when there's pain, the pain lightens up and you lay there thinking that it's going to be okay. You start thinking, while you're looking up at the sky, that maybe there is a God because it sure as hell feels like there is one. You're getting blood everywhere and it feels nice. For a minute, you realize that you've been waiting for a long time to die and it's an amazing thing...and then there's a flicker. And it's just a little flicker, but it's enough to kick your ass into going again."

"What's the flicker?" she murmured nearly-silently, her own eyes closed in mirror of what mine had been.

"I don't want to die," I muttered. "You're laying there and it strikes you like lightning. You hear the war and you see his face, you see the agony...and all you can think is _I don't wanna die._ You start thinking, all of a sudden, really quick without knowing you're thinking about it, all about the life you're going to have. The suburb house, the picket fence, the kids and the dog and the Chevy. The political career. Wealth, happiness, satisfaction. Maybe you wanted to die but not yet, not when you're not ready. There's pain after that...quite a bit. Then it goes dark. And whether you live or die is up to you."

She lowered her head and laughed. Her hands came up, folding into fists against her mouth, and she laughed. She curled up, laughing into her hands, laughing until I watched the tears roll down her face and she shook her head like she wasn't crying, laughing and sobbing and pretending that it was alright. She withdrew her hands and clasped one flat over her chest with this grin that promised she'd never felt that way before in her life, even if her eyes told me that it was a bold-faced lie.

"I was ripped open by a werewolf," I said, silencing her laughter. She froze and the smile fell almost instantly. My lips turned up though, as if a part of me were taking delight in her shock. I ran my fingers over Sean's and shrugged again- I was trying to come off as indifferent as possible. "Back at Belfry Prep, a month or two ago. God, it feels like forever ago. I can still feel it. The rain on my face. The warm blood gushing out under my fingers. I was going to give up when I saw Bram. I thought my mother was dead. I thought...there wasn't a lot to live for anymore. I didn't find much point in struggling to live forever when even the immortal died. But he kept me alive and he gave me all this after that. We got engaged when I recovered. We went West." I shook my head slowly, as if in disbelief to my own words. I glanced to Sean and sighed, unable to properly find the words to conclude my vocalized epiphany.

Draculaura's hands were folded in her lap, delicately and politely. Her downcast eyes went unnoticed to me until I heard the shame in her voice. I knew at the first syllable that I was getting the story she refused to tell even her closest confidants, and all because I had told her of my own near-demise.

"It was about two hundred years ago. I had always had a dual nature...I tried not to be like them. My father was fine with that. I was dueling human food and blood, establishing myself away from the vampire community. He found them corrupt anyway. I went out with my stepmother one night...and I didn't know that she'd caught my father with his mistress earlier in the day. She went on a rampage, killing and slaughtering and she knew..." Her breath caught in her throat, eyes tearing with such agony that for a moment, I had forgotten Sean and Bram existed at all. I caught her hand in reassurance. Like a little soldier, she carried on as if it didn't cause her pain; it must've been the most soul-cleansing experience she'd had since to purge the thoughts to me. "She knew how hungry I was. I followed. Even after she'd stopped, I continued. By dawn, the village outside the castle walls was burning and Verona had led me inside... My father saw the blood. He knew. It took...months to set in. Then I stopped. I stopped right there. He had to force-feed me until IVs were made, and then when they made supplements..."

"You can't turn your back on blood forever," I whispered, sliding off the bed to her side. "It was a tragedy, of course, but you can't possibly blame yourself for this."

She simply looked down, the tears falling delicately from her eyes. I grasped her face, wiping them away as if she were my own child. "This was not your fault, Draculaura."

She shook her head in protest. I could've continued, but there was a sharp, stinging swat to my backside that sent me leaping to my feet with a squeak. Draculaura's head snapped up in shock and I saw the characteristic grin cross Sean's face. His eyes were closed, but when they lifted partially, they were glassy with the drunken haze of morphine. "Shut up, woman, I'm tryin' t' sleep."

"It's a wonder you don't have a girlfriend," I replied, cupping my stinging backside, "You're such a charmer."

He laughed through his nose around the oxygen tubing, nearly sending himself into a coughing fit. Bram stepped inside, glancing to the three of us. I realized we must've looked a sight, me with my bum in my hand, Draculaura with tears in her eyes and Sean grinning like a stoned orangutan. "If ya ever get tired..." Sean said, grinning with more implication than he should've been able to muster. Draculaura blushed furiously. I rolled my eyes. Sean attempted to sit up, his head swaying like he was the sole passenger of a boat. Eventually, he gave up and shifted toward me, the white-toothed grin of a fox never falling, "You boost my morale, lass."

"Oh don't be crude, I know exactly what part of your morale I'm boosting," I snapped in reply. Bram tried not to laugh. He gently touched my arm and guided Draculaura to stand, "Alright, he's fine. Let's go home."

"What, afraid I'm gonna steal yer girl?" Sean teased.

"No, he's afraid I'll take you up on the offer and break you even further," I shot back.

Sean's eyes flicked to me, warming with intelligence as our banter continued. "I'm not as fragile as I look, lassie. Why don't ya come give me a shot?"

"Yes, euthanasia."

"I'm afraid our mother is going to hear you with that mouth," Bram said over me, cutting him off. "Or worse, your doctor, who is kicking us out to let you sleep."

Sean rolled his eyes, "Yer no fun." His words were slurring together with exhaustion. I stepped out, tugging my fiancee and best friend with me. Doctor Stein was approaching and Bram left me to speak to her. I glanced to Draculaura, nudging her with my elbow, "Honestly, you've now seen me at my worst and my best, stop acting like Shirley Temple around me."

"Are you having sex with him?" she asked quietly, almost causing me to laugh out loud.

"Sean? He wishes."

Her eyes glinted wickedly and an impish grin touched her lips, "I thought so. Just wanted to make sure. You know, I could set him up with Clawdeen..."

I laughed out loud. "Honey, as much as I'm sure he'd love it, she'd _kill him."_


	62. Chapter Sixty-Two

_Chapter Sixty-Two_

Bram had been through enough by the time Draculaura dropped us off at our car. I drove the both of us home to allow him to begin drifting off in the car. He managed to make it inside and up to bed, but I doubted that he'd done much besides shedding his bloody clothes and crawling into bed. I had been rendered completely awake by my restless nerves and went through the complete motions of an indulgent bath and a snack. I had nothing to do and Sabbath was completely content sleeping on my pillow, so I wasn't getting any company. I settled on my laptop in the den with retro horror on one of the movie channels and let the light of two screens brighten my private little world. I wrote Vinnie and let him know what had gone on, I wrote Valentine asking about my parents, and finally, I wrote Maggie to let her know that Sean was doing about as well as a college binge drinker.  
It was half past one when I finally powered down and decided that if I couldn't get to sleep, I'd have to rifle through the medicine cabinet for something to put me to sleep. Normally, medication was frowned upon even in times of necessity. I'd been brought up in a time before then, there was no use on relying on it now. Some occasions warranted the surrender, this one being one of them. I put my laptop back in place and glanced over a limited amount of potentially useful things. Allergy medicine for the close encounter with garlic, pain medicine for study migraines, cough drops for sore throats and the like, but absolutely nothing to aid the potentially post-traumatic stressed mind. Bram was sleeping like the dead and didn't notice in the slightest as I headed over to the other wing in search of Sean's whiskey stash. It took five minutes of rifling around under his bed to find it wedged under his mattress, but it was exactly where I anticipated a hard-working Irishman would keep his liquor. There was almost satisfaction in the discovery.

I made myself a mint julep and sat outside on the railing.

It was a nice night, all things considered. I'd been productive. The moon was fading and the night insects were going insane. The stars were like a splash of glitter across black velvet. Space, tonight, was completely free of clouds and open to its infinity. It was strange how dark it seemed while every other night it seemed tinted in blue. My senses weren't dulled in the slightest, not even with my mind so preoccupied. The warm breeze aided the tea-like qualities of the minty whiskey in unwinding my muscles and taking the sense of urgency from my thoughts. Even when I heard the obviously approaching steps, I didn't move. It was when they stopped and hesitated that I spoke, "I've heard you coming since you were halfway up the drive. You've had plenty of time to think."

Romulus took a few more careful steps forward and sat on the railing beside me with his hands jammed in the pockets of his jacket. Despite the increasingly sticky warmth, he wore the thing like the robes of Jesus Christ himself. I was wearing out fast, and the radiant heat from the werewolf's body was not aiding my stability.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "So's the kid. He wanted to turn himself in, but...it's your pack. If you want to handle things, you need to handle them. Not people outside your pack."

I laughed and downed the last of the liquid in my glass. "It's alright. Next time Sean gets cocky, I'll remind him that a kid put a cap in his ass and he almost died from it. He's never getting out of this now."

He looked at me as if I were insane, and I realized that I might've been sitting on the metaphysical fence of my sanity. Well, since they'd broadened the terms of mental illness, I was sure I had a few anyway. I must've been slipping, since his hand snapped out and he caught me from falling backward. I glanced at him and smiled, the warmth in the middle of my back enough to remind me that I was still nowhere near as human as them. They were like a pack of greasers, and I was the enemy to them. I was one of the corrupt, those blessed with money and had never given away a dime. I would try, now. Maybe nearly seeing someone I cared about die had changed me, but my exhaustion was no longer with living and simply with the people I had to live on the earth with. The people who hadn't been exhausted didn't know how precious living was. Forever was infinity, and some infinities were bigger than other infinities.

"Maybe you need to go inside," he muttered.

I swung my legs over the railing before he'd finished his sentence, glancing at him through eyes that promised I would get rest. I had to admit, up close, he wasn't bad looking. Wolf or anyone. There was knowledge and sincerity in the emerald green orbs. He was a good guy, I could tell from looking at him. I smiled and patted his shoulder, "Keep the kid to yourself. It's your pack, you do what you need to do. We'll be okay."

He rose a brow, "Are you drunk?"

Drunk with clarity, perhaps. I rose and headed to the door, pausing to glance at him and break into a smile. "I've never been more sober." He rose with confusion plain on his features. I couldn't stop myself from my contentment. "I want to wave a white flag, Romulus. It's a truce, a stalemate. No more fighting."

It was the simplest concept in the world, yet the hardest for anyone to grasp. He did better than anyone I'd ever met, be it the street sense or having bare witness to the earlier events as well. He nodded before meeting my gaze and promising, his voice gentle and understanding, "No more fighting."

I shut one of the doors and leaned on the other, the brass handle in my hand, "I'll see you at school."

He nodded, lips quirking slightly upward in a little smile, "See you, Fangtell."

"Gory," I corrected as I shut the door, pretending not to hear him echo my name as if he had just met one of the people he intended to keep in his inner circle for time to come.

...

I woke up to peppered kisses and the warmth of both my cat and my fiancee sleeping nearly on top of me. Bram was obviously more awake than Sabbath, who draped her head off my legs like a puppy and spread across my knees with intent to keep me in place. I remained under their combined weight and warmth until he shifted a bit, nearly crushing my rib cage. I pushed him back enough to wake him fully, watching as he blinked the sleep from his eyes and receded to his half of the bed, "Sorry."

I lifted Sabbath and placed her on his chest. She rolled over, her tail swaying as if she were drunk. As the pressure alleviated, the slight unease that came with having been drinking settled in. I nestled myself under the covers for another long moment while he reached over, allowing Sabbath to collapse dramatically against me. She purred while nestling comfortably into my chest. I caressed her fur, my eyes drooping before my glasses were slipped over them. He smiled down at me, "I'm going to get ready and stop by the hospital to see Sean before school. I'll be back soon?"

I nodded with a little smile, "How long do I have?" The alarm was on his side of the bed. He glanced over, shrugged and replied, "Twenty minutes if you don't want to put in a lot of effort."

Honestly, I didn't. I wrapped Sabbath under my arm and sighed comfortably. He must've set the alarm, as the moment I woke up, I knew I had to go. It was a few degrees warmer than it had been twenty minutes ago, promising a day warmer than I'd like. I kissed Sabbath's head, leaving her in her place as queen of the lazy cats, and dressed quickly in a black skirt with a gathered top layer and my red peasant blouse. Getting ready took hardly twenty minutes and was coupled with the easy slipping into a pair of black Roman sandals and the gathering of my packed bag. I shut Sabby in the bedroom and went downstairs, my sunscreen-glazed skin ready to be bared to the sun. Obliging myself, I opened the windows of the main hall and tossed back the heavy drapes. Their gossamer under-layers stirred in the breeze.

It was the first time in a long time that I felt excited. I put on the stereo and made myself a real breakfast, watching the time as I knew he was. Too glorious of a day to be wasted, the yard called to me with the promise of childish games and answers to my curiosity. There was nothing to fear. There was no reason to conceal myself behind a shroud of knowledge that never answered the right questions. After tidying up, I almost decided to lose track of time and go outside. The only reason I didn't came in the hearse pulling up to the house. I grabbed my bag and turned to go, only to be met at the door by the entryway swinging open and Maggie's vivid, expressive tone chastising her sons while only one was present. "I am _just saying,_ you build the girl a palace that anyone can just drive up to! We'll put in a gate over the weekend. And it wouldn't have killed either of you to make the drive up a little nicer. Good Lord, we'll have to put something down for that road. What happens if it floods? Mud. And you're stuck back here. Not even a flower on the lawn or a distraction from the grandness, it's like I've never taught you modesty!"

Bram carried in her bags, his lips pursed and head quirked with repressed laughter, "Of course you did, Mum."

She glanced about, the light shimmering off her golden hair like a statue made of precious gems and metals. While I knew Maggie Devein to wear the latest of Edwardian and Victorian fashion, I had to admit, modern designer looked good on her. A cap-sleeved, floor length emerald satin dress was at the very least modeled after the newest designs. The square neckline was complimentary to her full curves, a few-inch train trailing out behind her while the tips of her manicured toes peeked out from beneath the fabric. Brass bangles, studded with little, legitimate gems, lined her wrist. A matching square clutch was buckled in gold, glittery and new. The familiar knowledge that the Lady Devein's clothes likely cost more than my house flared up warmth in my cheeks and a familiar, bubbly sensation in my chest. I waited. The curtains stirred around her like angels, and she examined the main room with satisfaction before turning my way to speak to Bram and spotting me. Like a young woman, she threw her arms open and appraised me with a glowing smile, "Gory! You look stunning! Oh come here, my sweetest girl!"

I couldn't smile more widely for my own mother. I dropped my bag and dashed across the floor to her, throwing my arms around her like a little girl. I always felt like a little girl around Maggie; she was like everyone's mother, whether they wanted her to be or not. She squeezed me earnestly, attempting to still be gentle. As she withdrew, her lips quirked, "Good to see you out of a corset! You have to let boys admire that figure of yours sometime."

I blushed and lowered my gaze. Bram's arm snaked around my waist, drawing my body against his. "The only one who ought to be doing any admiring of this goddess is me."

Maggie rolled her eyes, taking a few wide steps into the room and throwing out her arms in a grand gesture. Everything about her was so grand, even the way she appreciated the beautiful things her sons had made. "Just look at this house! Do you remember when the two of you were making little stick picture frames with leaves and things you found in the yard?"

I smiled at him, "You used to make twig picture frames?"

He forced his smile out of embarrassment, "Mother, we have to go to school."

"Oh, at least show me where I can stay! I'll be headin' back down to town soon anyway. I've got to get a car, some groceries..."

I was about to protest- she was our _guest_, we ought to cook for _her_- when she put up her hand in a refusal to acknowledge that I was about to speak. "I am your mother, I am making your food."

Bram chuckled, grasping her bags and heading for the stairs, "Whatever you say, Mum. I'm surprised you traveled so light this time. Did you pack in a hurry?"

"Everything but my purse," she replied. "I can always get things I don't have."

He paused at the top of the stairs, out of sight. I heard him kiss his mother's cheek and promise to give her the grand tour later before guiding her down the hall to the room she would be residing in. My iCoffin chimed with a text from Draculaura, and without reading, I replied, _You know, if I had known that I could replace Sean with my mother-in-law, I might've done it weeks ago._


	63. Chapter Sixty-Three

_Chapter Sixty-Three_

We were halfway through Trig when I spied the glint of golden curls and turned my head toward the door. Maggie stood at the door, waving at Bram and I. Draculaura looked up first, though, and glanced to me. "Who is that?"

Bram lifted his head and immediately dropped it down on his book so quickly it made a reverberating sound. I laughed out loud, muffling it while receiving a deathly look from Mr. Zarr. I glanced to Draculaura and whispered, "My mother-in-law."

Unfortunately, the visibly human teacher took notice of our uninvited guest and opened the door with intent to be rude, "Can I help-?"

Maggie breezed in like a streak of color across a painted sky, her pearly fangs visible in an openly coral-lipped smile, "Come on, the both of you. We have things to do."

"We're in the middle of class," I murmured, attempting not to blush. It wasn't a class I was particularly good at, either, making my attendance in it a little more mandatory than I would've liked. She rolled her eyes and shifted her hand to her hip, "What have ya got in here?"

I swallowed and looked at the floor. My chest was tight in a way it hadn't been in years. "Seventy-two," I muttered, "but it's an improvement over the last couple weeks." Honestly, after having clawed my way up from a fifty seven, I was at the last of my efforts. Bram picked himself up and draped his arm around my back, pulling me a little closer. I didn't realize it right away, but the three vampires around me had picked up on my anxiety more quickly than the werewolves behind me. Maggie shifted and glanced at Draculaura, "You're a friend of Gory's?"

She nodded, sitting up straight as if she were about to be interrogated.

"Well then, you're coming too. We need a girl's opinion. Now, Bram, go find a boy you can tolerate."

"Why, Mother?" he said with partial exasperation.

She crossed her arms across her chest, and for the first time I saw the outline of her corset. She looked more like his mother than his model-esque older sister than I'd ever seen her look before. "We're wedding planning. Now."

At the mention of wedding planning, he lowered his face to hide the burning in his cheeks. I heard books being tossed in a bag and glanced over my shoulder to see Jackson packing up behind Ghoulia. Maggie rose a brow, but I smiled in relief. With Vinnie so far away, there was no better man for the job, and I extended my hand backward to grasp his to prove it to him. His cheeks flushed lightly and he shrugged, "You guys have been nice to me. I want to repay the favor."

"It's not a favor," Bram said, lifting his gaze, "I can tolerate you because you don't make an ass of yourself like the infants of your generation. By all means, Jackson, _please_ join us."

With the prospect settled and our teacher growing more irate by the moment, we packed up and followed Maggie out. At the last second, someone dared whistle at her and she turned, baring her lethal fangs, and growled with a deeper ferocity than I'd heard from a lycanthrope. The classroom went deathly silent, everyone sitting properly in an effort to avoid becoming targets. She smiled with complete satisfaction and led the group of us down to the Headmistress's office. "Now, I am going to vouch for you lot, why don't you get in your cars and meet me at the gate?"

Jackson was about to open his mouth when Draculaura smiled at him, "I'll drive you."

"Mother, do you even _have_ a car?" Bram asked as she trailed down the hall with the elegance of an elf among the trees. She didn't even glance over her shoulder, laughter like bells tinkling off the walls in her wake. Shrugging, I headed for the door and stopped short. "Oh yeah, she does."

I really shouldn't have been surprised. Maggie Devein was a lot like her husband and sons; she did everything on a grand scale. There wasn't a limitation to her money just as there was none on her grandeur, and her new car nearly gave me a heart attack for the same reason. It was potentially one of the most gorgeous things I had ever seen, a shiny dandelion yellow convertible with Chevy-styled lights and nineteen-eighties white leather interior. The floors looked suede. All of the interior was creamy white like freshly spread frosting, and while college students hung souvenirs from their travels and sentimental things, even traditional car dice or air fresheners from their mirrors, Maggie had a string of platinum-accented pearls that were likely older than cars themselves. They looped around thrice and draped like a waterfall nearly down to the dashboard, coated in the same cream suede. Jackson and Draculaura marveled at it while Bram chuckled. He walked around the flawless machine and stood in front of it, shifting his arms across his chest and slowly shaking his head. "She would."

Maggie must've severely charmed the headmistress. She came to the door moments later, practically dancing with excitement. I smiled effortlessly and headed for the car. Draculaura and Jackson followed the pretty little convertible first, and we them. I wondered what people thought of the eccentric noblewoman with pearls in her car and glossy new clothes. I wondered what it was like to be Maggie and have real freedom. Freedom wasn't a matter of answering to no king; freedom was achieved when a person reached their nirvana. She had married her true love, birthed two beautiful sons and inherited the world. Her husband trusted her to roam the world, and it wasn't uncommon for her to drop what she was doing and dash off to Saudi Arabia or the Cape of Good Hope in search of something, anything, she wanted. She'd written books and painted, and sculpted, and run businesses, and run a home. She had done it all and took life in with the excitement of a child. Knowing all she knew, she still threw her arms open to the sunlight and drank in the day.

With my admiration at the focus of my mind, my thoughts were only broken by the gentle lacing of my fiancee's fingers through my own. "She wasn't going to yell at you," he murmured. "You could've been failing and she would've yelled at _him._"

I nodded, "I know." Of course I knew. Maggie wasn't like my parents. Neither was her husband, but the Lord Devein and I were on less personal of terms than his wife and I. He was a nobleman, first and foremost, just as my father was a businessman. The difference was, Lord Devein had two sons that respected him and loved him despite his distance. My love for my family had been slipping for a long time. Entering theirs was only making me understand how far it had fallen.

My father was very good at his job. When I was a little girl, he would balance me on his lap and try to explain things to me that we both knew I would never understand, but I pretended to anyway. My mother and I would play games and tell each other stories, and I learned from her and quite honestly, loved her more. We had been through a lot as a family. My father wanting more had brought us an ocean away from our family, and he had been supported by my mother. She had always supported him, and when I grew into my teenage years, the support collapsed from me. We hadn't been able to afford private tutors, so a lot of my early learning after leaving my family's home had been self-taught. When we could, I had either known for years or I didn't care to. I wasn't particularly good at math or science, and I didn't care. My grandfather had taught me alchemy once. I had tried to learn trades, but girls of society didn't do that. My freedom was quickly curbed by the rising hope of power. The lessons, as they were met with more resistance, stopped for a few years and spared me the effort of fighting back at an attempted strike. Their emphasis on education had taken up once again during the sixties, and honestly, I had been in and out of school since then- partially tutored, partially weaving among mortals and non-mortals alike, and in the past decade, suffering the anxiety of the pressure of perfect grades, perfect attendance, and semi-conformity.

The discussion to send me to Belfry Prep had initially not gone well. I was going to public school- the same school Valentine was enrolled in now, but with less upgrades- and my mother had been lecturing me that she expected more of me. I showed her the acceptance letter from the school, and she had gone off. How dare I apply to a school without her permission. How dare I belittle their authority. My grades should matter. There was no easy way out of life, save for suicide. Yes, I dare belittle them. I wasn't going into medicine or science or business, I hated desk jobs. I'd been sitting at a desk for centuries, why the hell did I want to stay there? I wanted to be where I wanted to be, doing what I wanted when I wanted to do it. She wasn't going to pay for it. I didn't care, I'd said, I'll walk. I'll prostitute myself up and down the Magnificent Mile. Quit talking like a fool or I'll take a ruler to your legs. I'm three hundred years old, I dare you. My father, my magnificently oblivious father, had walked in and asked about the shouting and in ten minutes, reversed everything my mother had gone off about. Of course, he'd be happy to let me go. He didn't understand, but he'd known how unhappy I was. A part of me liked to believe that.

I'd called my friends up after the news had been delivered and gushed; I was leaving for the coast. It would be beautiful. Natural. Christmas-card snows and cafes and boutiques, Mom-and-Pop shops with gas pumps from the fifties. Great, Carmen had said, lovely. I'm so happy for you. She didn't promise to write, and I hadn't written her. The stress had been making me sick, mentally and physically, and Sabbath could only do so much. I'd packed up in record time and promised to come back on vacation. I loved my parents, I looked fondly back on my old life, but I knew how much better off I'd become now. Happiness, while not completely achieved, was very close. My friends genuinely cared for me, at least I hoped so. My stress had been relieved until now, yet I didn't feel the same exponential anxiety as before. My father wasn't here to deny my whims and pay attention when it suited him, and my mother wasn't here to tell me I was doing nothing with my life to try to find something that calmed me after all my stress. I had never been able to say it out loud, but when I thought she was dead, I had felt a measure of relief and instant guilt for the emotion. At least, at the very least, they were Valentine's problem now. Now that was a happy thought.

...

Maggie dropped off our cars at the house and squeezed all of us into her lovely little convertible, putting up the top when we'd reached Portland and it's grand shopping centers. Within one of the gigantic malls, she loaned Jackson the money to buy a proper tuxedo and bid the boys off to their work while Draculaura and I trailed after her up the stairs. People stopped to stare at the exuberant vampiress in passing. Sean took a lot after his sprite of a mother, the same fairy-like charm and goodness radiating from her as it did from her sons. She gushed to Draculaura about my sweetheart in his childhood years, of how Sean was the more lively of the two and how Bram possessed the same brooding disposition as his father. I listened with only partial interest until she dragged the both of us to pick out finery. Never before in my life had I seen so many fabric patterns and china to choose from. Draculaura seemed half-ready to plan her own wedding, but Maggie gently lured her back into stories while I made my choices.

It was the first time I had felt such peace before in my life. Maybe I was cut out for Maggie's life instead of the one I had considered my norm. The sight of robust vases of blown glass in varying shades took my breath away. Crystal glasses, some with prints and some without, some rimmed in gold and brass and silver, tingled my senses. I ran my fingers over lace-edged table cloths of linen, satin and silk. It was a rainbow. A luxurious, gilded rainbow with more value to it than I had placed on myself.

I turned back to Maggie with a wonder-filled smile, "I don't know what to pick."

"This is your day," she instructed gently, her voice full of mystical wisdom that seemed exclusive to her. My best friend bounced on her toes at her side, grinning with the joy of a toddler in a candy shop. I wasn't used to doing things alone any longer, especially things that involved the both of us. I saw a myriad of visions of my future; gold clothed tables and gems spilling from ivory-based wine glasses, strings of golden pearls tumbling from brass goblets onto scarlet lace. I could've cried. Instead, I picked up a simple dish with a ring of brass around its edge and stared at it.

"Pick one thing," she said, "It's hard at first, but once you have the first thing, the rest will come."

She didn't have to tell me twice. I set the plate down and glanced around the shop for the one thing that I could not and firmly would not leave without. My eyes settled on a grand vase of ruby-colored glass, large enough to fit three of my similar vases with room to move. It was slim and square toward its base and bloomed outward like the petals of a lotus flower. I imagined flowers spilling from it, and no matter where I looked, I knew it was the beginning of my plans. Tossing a glance over my shoulder, I smiled openly at my mother-in-law and my best friend, "Let's talk colors."


	64. Chapter Sixty-Four

_Chapter Sixty-Four  
Unfortunately, before I begin, I have to say... I think Love Bites is drawing to a close. I love this book so much, and I'm so sad to see it end. I'm going to give it six more chapters, and then...there is potential for a sequel._

Jackson was staring at suits like they were going to bite him, "Um...what exactly do we do?"

I glanced up from my phone and shrugged, "We have our measurements taken and they make one, then we come in for a fitting and take it home. We're allowed whatever we want, but for the love of god if you do plaid, you're off best man duty."

His brows shot up and the air slipped out of his mouth like he'd been punched in the gut. I tried not to smile at the poor boy's shock, but the immediate excitement that rushed into his features was hard to resist. "Really?" he asked as he pushed up his glasses with a knuckle, "You actually like me that much?"

"Unlike Gory, I have two friends. You and Vincent Stoker, who is also coming and apparently, waiting for our wedding to engage himself to a girl he's been sleeping with for...two months now?" If she made him happy, to each their own. I'd always found Natasha...finicky. After that blowout at Belfry Prep, Lord help him if he made her angry. Prissy and able to kick someone's skull in...just the kind of girl for Vinnie.

Jackson stared at me as if he expected a similar revelation, but went back to looking at ties while he timidly asked the question on his mind, "How long have you been with Gory?"

"Three and a half years," I replied, setting my phone in my lap, "but it feels like a pleasant lifetime."

The first time I had laid eyes on Gory Fangtell, she had been climbing out of her parents' car. My father had been arguing with Sean over the phone, my mother dabbing her tears, and I had looked out the window of my dorm room only to spot the car below. When she stepped out, my first instinct was to go see if she needed help. She looked like she'd faint from an immense amount of pain, which I found out quickly was just her natural facial expression at the time. She didn't smile often, and she was prone to bouts of anxiety and obsessive-compulsive, guilt-ridden depression. Hours later, she'd joined me in my dorm and we'd made it ours. I had been interested in her from the beginning, but I fell in love with her the way she had fallen asleep that night. We talked into the early morning, her eyes drooping despite her quick mind, and when she had finally fallen asleep, I realized that I had seen her smile for the first time all day. The affection I had felt for her was protective at first. Her interest was obvious, and I was undeniably infatuated. Girls in Ireland were alright, girls in America were...less than appealing. She was the first to really hold my attention. I had tried to wait, hold off our physical intimacy with kissing and caressing, cuddling and slowly escalating desire. I knew from prior...self-made experience that sex was neither as great nor as horrible as people made it out to be. With her, my thoughts changed. I had fallen very quickly for her, her interests and her knowledge and the core of goodness beyond the incredibly damaged, hateful front she hid behind that was coated in kindness-the way a cracked wall was repaired with a new coat of paint rather than a seal of plaster. Being with her had been the most lovely dream, and all at once I had known. Since then, it had felt like a decade of breakfasts, movies, trips down to Wilson's for a candy bar and a beer that no one but Vinnie would ever know we'd had. I couldn't begin to explain the look in her eyes when she'd seen Wilson's gas station for the first time and immediately gone off on a literary rant about George and Myrtle.  
Somehow, I had ended up in George Wilson's shoes. I understood that great desire now, to kill and die for the woman he loved. While Gatsby was the greatest of the great, George had the same emotion in a less glamorous life. Daisy kept Gatsby alive, and her rejection had killed him. Myrtle had kept George alive, and her death had caused him to take his own life and the life of another man to even a score that had never been properly settled. Every time she read the book, I always hoped for a new ending with a more poetic justice. Tom leaving her for a mistress, or Daisy dashing off to Paris only to find herself with Gatsby's child. It had been poetic justice that brought the both of us together, and it was only that I wished upon everyone else.

Jackson had picked up a gold tie and stared down at it. I glanced up, noticing his interest and pocketed my phone, rising and closing the space between us silently. I admit, it was a little cruel, but I leaned over his shoulder and whispered in his ear with the silence of a ghost's breath. "I've never seen such beautiful shirts."

Jackson went red. I laughed out loud, flicking the edge, "If you want it, get it. Get a few. The trip's on me."

"I can't possibly..." he began, but when he noticed the look I was giving him, he paused.

"Are you serious?" I replied. He continued to blush, his eyes finally falling to the floor. I had made myself comfortable again while waiting for the tailor, and sat up in an effort to draw his gaze. It worked. "I understand. You have Holt for a brother, Heath for a cousin, and your mother's a teacher. I'm serious. There's nothing wrong with having nice things."

His lips twitched up at the corners and his eyes fell back down to the tie. He was going to cry. I didn't have to see it to know it. "Don't let my kindness bring you to tears. I like you. I do things for people I like."

"I have Holt and Heath to deal with," he muttered as if it mattered. Surely he was worrying about keeping it pristine. It occurred to me that he probably had once had many nice things of his own, but through no fault of his own, they had been destroyed in some way or another. Sean had never bothered me enough to break my toys or things like that. It occurred to me that not everyone had as decent of a brother as my own. Better late than never, I suppose.

"You've never seen such beautiful ties," I replied, shifting my head to my hand and propping my elbow on the back of the little sofa. To me, it was a simple, yellow tie. Probably satin or something of the sort, linen-lined and hand-stitched, but just a yellow tie. There was nothing special to me about this tie. My nothing seemed to be his everything. He was the son of a schoolteacher. That was hard enough without Holt to deal with.

I got up and looked around, returning with a matching one in burnt orange and throwing it to him. He caught it as if it were precious, refusing to let the fabric hit the ground. He stared at it, one in one hand and his yellow one in the other, and finally lifted his gaze to me. There were little wet streaks down his cheeks, silent rivers that reminded me of my good fortune. I sat. "One for you, one for him. Simple. For everything you get, let him have one."

"I can't possibly let you do that," he breathed, clenching his fists around the ties as if empowered. Surely it was double the expense, but it wasn't even the blink of an eye toward my wallet.

"Jackson," I said, sitting up. I lowered my tone in the event of a prying ear and murmured, "There is three thousand dollars cash in my wallet, not to mention alternative methods of payment. It's fine." The limits on my credit cards were probably enough to give him a heart attack. I didn't mention them. My phone returned my attention to my bride-to-be, and I replied to her message on colors and patterns with indifference. _Gory, we've lived together for how long? I let you decorate the apartment, I let you decorate the house (whether you were aware of it or not), just decorate our wedding._

I glanced at the clock and back down at my phone to receive her next message. _I just want you to be happy, you're getting married too._

I rolled my eyes and replied. _Yes, to you. What would make me happy is taking you to buy something for the wedding night. I'd hate to sound like my father, but you're the woman, dearest. No one could pick a plate like you._

Jackson picked up a few little fineries. I smiled.

_Te dracu,_ she replied.

_Later._

We could've kept on the teasing all afternoon, but at long last, Jackson and I were summoned, and the boy enamored with ties had to be cut off before he went too far.

...

By the time we had dropped off Draculaura and Jackson, Gory had promised to drive the Escalade out in the morning and we were nearly asleep in the back seat of my mother's car. After the fitting, I had been forced to join the females for what could only be described as the most culturally enriching, gender affirming experience with cutlery that I had ever witnessed in my entire existence and had never hoped nor expected to. After planning nearly the entire goddamned event in mere hours, my mother was still happy and energetic, something that I could sense my fiancee was not. She had managed to find everything, though. Every candle, every candlestick, every dinner and dessert plate, every fork, knife and spoon, wine glass and coffee cup, table cloth and crystal vase. After that, my mother had brought her to select flowers, both for table arrangements and bouquets, which she had done elegantly and surprisingly quickly. Despite her worries, she knew exactly what she wanted. There had been the cake, the caterer and food, the selection of wine and music, the venue, and lastly- horrifically- the dress. Of which, I was not allowed to bare witness, and had been saved for the very last thing on another day. Despite completing a lengthy checklist, Gory had outfitted Draculaura in something she could stomach on Ruth. Charlie was set to be our altar boy, ring-bearer-slash-flower-throwing-child, and from the sounds of her conversation with Natasha, the other female was livid at being cut from the exclusive bridesmaids list. I had nearly laughed.

Still, Gory had come home with a few dresses that she picked out for herself as a reward for suffering through the events of the day and the vase that she ever so adored. If she'd had the energy, I feared she might've shopped for more, but much like her dress, those ensembles would surely wait for another day. She lifted the bags out of the back and went inside wordlessly, leaving me to profoundly thank my mother in the garage before slipping after her under the guise of tending to her exhaustion.

By the time I arrived to our room, she had already stowed her dresses in the closet and sat the empty vase upon the shelf of her desk. It looked lonely without a cheerful face of flowers. I only needed to take a step into the bathroom to notice her. In her exhaustion, she had left her glasses on, and her arms had slipped off the edges of the tub so she sat motionlessly, eyes closed, up to her neck in bubble bath. I shut the door and perched myself at the edge, stealing her glasses and running warm water through her hair. She smiled slightly at the pampering and muttered with obvious exhaustion, "My feet hurt."

"That's what you get for wearing heels," I replied, leaning in to kiss her wet bangs to her forehead. Her eyes opened and lips parted, tempting me to join her. I kissed them too and slipped down beside the tub to shampoo her hair. Even though I allowed her to rest, she moved to do it herself. I caught her hands firmly as they left the soapy water, her hair sticking to her neck on the opposite side of where I placed a gentle kiss, "No."

"Bram, I swear before Judas Iscariot, I am going to wash my own hair."

"Shut up," I muttered in her ear.

"Is it too late for Vegas?" she replied, "The woman's unstoppable. She's that friend we didn't think we had, that wanted us to get married before we even met."

I chuckled and massaged the rose-scented liquid into her hair, "That sounds like my mother."

"I don't want to do this," she muttered, "I don't want a whole show. My dad's already upset that I decided to go with letting Maggie help me instead of the traditional way..."

I rolled my eyes, "I didn't ask for a dowry."

"He was going to give you one anyway," she whispered. Her voice strained just enough to betray impending tears. I massaged her temples with what I hoped was soothing firmness. Her body melted successfully, but so did her eyes. "My mother said that if she could, she'd protest. I had Valentine tell them for me. I wasn't about to sit them down and let them know. That's only resulted in agony before...they always have to make it difficult."

Her lips quivered, so rich and plump. I ran water through her hair and placed a warm kiss to them. With the rosy water, I wiped away her tears and pressed her face close to mine. Her wet fingers withdrew from the bath, winding in my hair and pressing my mouth firmly to hers.  
Honestly, if we didn't hate ourselves so much, maybe we wouldn't enjoy sex the way we did. The idea that someone worshipped her was still new to her, still special. In ten, twenty years...maybe decades...we wouldn't need it to acknowledge that the other was far superior to others. I slid my hand gently down her neck, noticing her shiver. People were wrong. Everyone was wrong. Her parents were wrong for damning this, for trying to make it less special than it was to us, even if it wasn't the be-all, end-all of mankind. Alright, it was and she knew it, but it was beside the point. It had been their biting words that had left these damages, their teachings that had backfired as she grew. I knew how she felt. She thought she was worthless in the eyes of our peers since she was above them. She thought she was worthless in the eyes of her parents, since they tried to belittle what she tried to share with them and scrutinized her in her silence. I didn't have to be a psychology major to understand that I was the first person to make her feel worthy of anything in a very long time. Sex proved to her that she meant something to me. It was a give-and-take; she tried to show me just how much I meant to her, and she knew as well as I that neither of us would ever be able to fully vocalize how deeply this devotion went.

She whispered my name as I drew her near. I placed kisses to her damp neck and caressed the delicate skin of her collarbone. "I want you to take a nice, long bath," I murmured as I drew away. "Rest. Relax. Then, come join me in bed. I'll put you to sleep."

She understood the frenzy of desire. It burned like coal in the pit of my stomach, scalding my blood and making me long to cup her soft and silken curves. I could pay tribute to her the way a monk prayed in a temple, right here and right now if she liked. I wanted it to surpass that as it had before and would again. I wanted to lay with her in bed and take my time. There had never been a more bipolar love before us. The both of us were born to the violence of our kind and yet managed to thrive in the gentility of tenderness.

"I'll be there momentarily," she murmured, fully awakened by and to my hands. I cupped her face and placed another passionate kiss upon her flawless mouth. Her not-quite-pearly, not-quite-straight teeth that her mother scrutinized, her heart-shaped face her father ceased to notice. She was more beautiful than the people that caused her such torment. She would always be more beautiful, and anyone who tried to speak the contrary was wrong.

"I love you with all that I am," I breathed. She was my paramour, my goddess, the only person to give my life real meaning. I had been a shell before, waiting for something to satisfy the wanderlust. Nothing satisfied me if it wasn't with her. I had always known how truly and painfully lucky I was to find her before some other fool could have the chance.

She ran her damp thumb across my cheek and stole another kiss. "I know. And you should know that you are what gives me life."

We were a pair of crippled birds, lost souls whose only solace from the tainted world was in each other. I knew. She knew. Neither of us were likely to forget.


	65. Chapter Sixty-Five

_Chapter Sixty-Five_

The next day brought a Friday alive with gloomy skies and an ease in the humidity. From the moment the alarm chimed, I knew it was going to be a glorious day. The door of our bedroom was still closed, lending to the suspicion that Sabbath hadn't joined us after all, and the scent of rich, home-cooked food made my stomach clench with delight. Instead, Bram tugged me closer and peppered warm, wet little kisses across the back of my neck until I giggled with ticklishness. "I charge you with the capitol crime of being too desirable and sentence you to life with me."

I laughed out loud, "Are you sleep talking? That was horrible."

He chuckled, pressing his face into my hair without reply. My skin was warm from being pressed against his and his soft breaths fanned my neck, sending shockwaves of chills down my spine and directly to my toes. His arms wound around me and his hands uncurled to caress my skin as he gave my torso a gentle squeeze. I could've gone back to sleep, but time didn't allow for that. Grudgingly, he kissed the curve of my shoulder and rose, "When do we get to leave this little horror show?"

"I thought you were having fun, Captain Casketball," I teased.

He rummaged around for some underwear, withholding his reply until his conquest had been made. I sat up and stretched, draping my arms across my knees and watching him for a solid few minutes before gesturing toward the dresser, "Second drawer?"

He gave up on his search and directed himself to where the last set had been placed. Instead of quipping in return, he simply shot me a chastising look and went to find clothes. I followed suit after another moment of leisure, uncovering something cute and slipping into the bathroom before him. By the time he entered, I was already halfway done.

"No," he said, grasping my shoulders gently, "Please don't take up the bathroom now."

"Take it up," I scoffed, "Go. You act like I haven't seen."

"We're not married yet," he replied, "I'd rather leave the disillusionment for after the wedding, when you can't change your mind."

I was too busy putting on my foundation to be bothered with his childish games. "If you have to go, _go._ My presence shouldn't be stopping you."

He waited until I had shut that compact to grasp my arms and place my robe in my hands and very gently prod me out of the bathroom, to which I went willingly. "Rude," I muttered, knowing full well he could hear me. I wasn't really irritated. He was too adorable when embarrassment flustered him so much. I dressed partially and went downstairs in search of breakfast.

I had expected to find Maggie in the kitchen with Sabby around her ankles, but my kitten perched on the counter and cleaned her paws. The organization board on the refrigerator was scrawled over in red dry-erase marker. _Gone down to see Sean. I'll be home to make dinner. Lunch is on the counter, breakfast is on the table. Sabbath has been fed. Congratulations on the quiz!_  
My brows rose and, as if they knew something I didn't, my eyes traveled to the opposite door. The singular piece of paper shouldn't have surprised me, but the action of its display did. My parents' house was full of schedules, calendars, memo boards and clips, but never pictures and tests... and despite the house being ours, despite the polished steel being completely new, Maggie had placed a few small, round magnets and a magnetic picture frame with an obviously digitally-taken picture of the five of us the last time I had been in Ireland.

I actually wanted to be angry. I didn't display my sentiments. My pride was very quiet, so was my adoration, but in one simple action, Maggie seemed to make our dream house into a home. The following guilt was instant. My eyes fell to the fully-loaded plates on the table and my stomach reminded me that half of it was oozing blood. I sat, sinking into the chair like a ship with lead sails and a paper anchor. _I've never had someone put a test on the ice box before._ I couldn't even remember art being up there. While my schoolmates had never been one for outright displays of achievement either, it felt like a courtesy. Human parents birthed their children and spent their lives being proud of them, at least most of them did. I had never understood why outright pride was such a problem for vampires. The constant competition felt like a glorified case of micro-phallo instead of a display of strength. _Let me be superior,_ as opposed to _I already am._ While I ate, I considered it carefully and established that Maggie and the entire Devein family were very openly proud. I wondered if it was the money or the knowledge that they were nobility in a time when even the presidents could come from peasantry. Maybe the Devein clan was naturally predisposed to greatness. Maybe I just wasn't.

When Bram came downstairs, fully dressed and ready to go, he noticed me sitting and staring at my empty plate and sighed with teasing weight, "Yes, I understand. The mysteries of the universe can be unlocked in the juices of blood sausage."

I looked up and glanced over at the refrigerator as if he could explain away his mother's pride. He simply smiled and placed his sausage in the middle of a sweet roll. He put most of the effects of his plate together within the roll and bit down as if it were a sandwich. "Why did she do that?" I asked, surprised at my very own genuine surprise.

"She loves you," he replied with his mouth full, "You're the daughter she never had."

It had never occurred to me to find a new parental figure when I didn't need one. I sought friendship in my lonely times, but nothing of the familial sort. I supposed it was because I always had my little gang.

I rose, placing my plate in the sink and scooping up Sabbath. She purred delightedly and nestled her warm, fuzzy face into my breasts. Bram quirked a brow and smirked between bites, "Lucky little shit."

I rolled my eyes and carried her upstairs. We departed not much later and immediately upon our arrival to the school were we hit with wave upon wave of gossip from Draculaura.

"You will never believe what I heard!" she began, beaming from ear to ear as she linked her arm through mine. I glanced to her in an encouragement for her to tell me, even though her appetite for gossip rivaled Spectra's. "First, Rom and Abbey are probably dating but nobody's confirmed. That boy that shot your brother checked himself into the hospital last night and he has PTSD. There are set to be more new transfers to the school, and _we're going to Monte Carlo for the end of the year picnic party!_"

She said the last news with such force and such vigor that the both of us leaned closer with perked ears to try to catch what she was saying. I clasped her arm, "Sweetie, Monte Carlo is a French colony."

"The _resort,_" she said as if it were common knowledge, "down the coast. It's only the place to be for summer fun! Are you coming?"

My first instinct was to deny vehemently. We had wedding plans and I refused to wear a swimsuit. I refused to spend my summer with people in general. Before I could stop him, Bram shrugged and told her the biggest lie I had ever heard him utter. "We'll see."

She squealed; unless it was an outright no, she'd take it as a confirmation. Unhappy with the predicament, I nudged her and drew her attention elsewhere, "Transfers?"

"Oh, just some kids from another academy across the country. Some from up North, some from down South, quite a few actually. No one knows who or when yet, but Spectra did see a heap of new transfer papers in the Headmistress's office!"

Maybe my old schoolmates had finally gotten fed up with the peppy little vampire and her friends. It took most of my effort not to smile and even more not to laugh. Before I had even reached the stairs, my phone chimed. _When is your lunch? -M_

With a little smile, I replied, _Twelve thirty. -Moriarty. _I could almost imagine Maggie's laughter as she read the text and passed it along to Sean to lift his spirits. _And if we're really going to go for that dress, I need to do it quickly. Trust me._

...

Without much fuss, Maggie picked me up during lunch and brought me somewhere she trusted to get things done properly. It was as if I'd stepped back in time to a Lord and Taylor shop in the heart of Manhattan, circa nineteen-hundred. Human employees droned on to Maggie about things neither of us cared for. The tradition of a white gown, they'd said, had grown outdated. Whether they thought she was the bride or not, I couldn't have agreed more.  
I paused at one of the tables and lifted the pencil there, taking to one of the sheets to sketch a rough design of the daring gown I had in mind.

"Lovely," came a breezy tone from over my shoulder.

I didn't even pause, "Your pencils?"

A thin, elegant hand removed them from a small drawer and placed them at my fingertips. "I assume you know what you want, then?"

With my head lifting ever so slightly, I took notice of the softspoken man at my side. A tape measure was draped lovingly around his neck like a scarf and his cobalt gray vest carried clinging curls of white thread. Beneath, a lively lavender shirt highlighted slender arms and skilled hands. His pants, only a slight shade lighter, had seen a bit of wear and better days. "Let me guess, the man I'll be working with?"

"Paul Bathory," he replied, extending a hand. I froze, my eyes snapping to his face to trace the contours of a face that seemed vaguely familiar. I clasped his hand in both of mine reverently. His face positively lit up. A gentle, olive undertone to his skin spoke of his European sunbelt decent. Even after wracking my brain against the portraits I'd seen of Ersbet and Ferenc, I had to admit he had no prominent features distinguishing him as Bathory nor Nadasy. If there was such a thing as a perfect blend of two beings, he was likely it. All of his parents' beauty and none of their obvious notoriety had given him virtual anonymity.

"I'm honored," I breathed.

He chuckled, "The honor is mine. I hear you're to be the new Lady Devein. It's been quite a time since I've served royalty."

Royalty. Oh that rang well. He leaned over my crude picture and offered his hand for the pencil, which I gratefully forfeited. As if he could see my train of thought, he began sketching little details, altering what needed to be changed, and finally glanced to me with obvious adoration. "You dress like my mother."

"Was she one of us?" I breathed, clasping my hand to his arm.

"Darling, she was the most flawless of us all. Even my uncle could tell you that." His chin rose proudly, as if his family's downfall had been an accomplishment of its own. "They were the only vampiric royalty to perish in the witch-hunts."

"It must've been torture," I replied.

He laughed, "Yes, it was torture to leave to Romania with my extended family and inherit all my glory. I do miss them terribly, but it's worked out since. Now...for your bodice, I imagined you were imagining crushed velvet?"

"In black," I replied, "Along the seam here." As my fingers trailed over the page, he sketched like a madman. Where I wanted a lace accent, he drew it in detail to my specifics. The bust-accentuating corset of a bodice and the full, glorious skirt of pure and light silk with only one taffeta petticoat and another, traditional one. Instead of denying the state of my hair, I decided on an up-do that would send future curls tumbling over my shoulders, and a black veil hanging from a circlet rather than a traditional veil. He was as enamored with me as I was with him in the moments we spent designing and trading gossip on the histories of our royal families. He wanted to decorate my hair in pearl-adorned pins and jeweled combs, but I teased him with the knowledge that it hadn't yet grown out. I had completely forgotten about school within the first few moments, and it was only when Maggie retreated around the corner that I remembered there had been a functioning world behind the curtains in which Paul and I retreated to.

"The two of you are giggling away like schoolgirls," she teased, "I think I've made another lovely match."

"If your son wasn't so dear to me, I'd steal her for myself," he teased in reply. I knew my face brightened instantly. It was one thing for Bram to find me attractive- that had been a miracle descended from Lilith and Cain themselves, but for _Paul Bathory,_ a relative stranger and distant relative of my best friend... My lacking ego took a bump to the behind.

"Come now," he said, cradling the finished design in his hand. I glimpsed the inside of my own mind and looped my arm through his. He twirled me off into a well-lit room where a singular camera sat atop a framed white square. Three of them sat like mirrors around the empty space in front. Maggie, beaming, took a seat on the lounge behind the space.

"What is it?" I asked, watching them for a hidden treasure.

Paul clicked the top of the camera and a silver glaze coated them immediately. For the second time, my eyes fluttered to withhold tears. "The bright and beautiful present," he replied.

I stood before myself the sole witness to all my flaws and all my glory. In my corset, I wasn't as fat as I typically thought myself. I looked downright tiny, and no camera could produce the effects people tried with mirrors. Glancing back to Maggie, I took note of her smile and allowed Paul's nimble fingers to remove it from under my shirt. I was full in figure, but when he stepped back, I saw in his eyes that he beheld me as attractive too. My lips quirked upward sadly.

"You would not believe the amount of girls I've seen that just don't eat," he said, almost mournfully. There was drama in his tone as if he'd halted his progression at an era long past. "You, my darling, are flawless. And don't you ever let any modern-day Paris Hilton whore tell you otherwise."

Traditional beauty. That was it. I studied my high and angular cheekbones, the heart shaped curve of my jaw, my button nose and wise eyes with not-so-dark brows and took note of every portrait that I had seen in which women of power were as beautiful as me. Not I as them...they as me. Seemingly satisfied with my revelation, Paul took my measurements and paused before dismissing me. "When you come back in this shop, don't you dare wear another corset again."

I stared at myself. Full hips, legs that touched. The firm muscle from running in my calves. I was not thin. I did not want to be. My hour-glass wasn't curved and it did not need to be. I couldn't feel the wire of my brasserie cutting into my ribs anymore, but even I could admit my chest looked nice. There were curves where I wanted them and some where I didn't, but somehow the look of two men had proved that my physical beauty was not just a fluke.

He came over and tucked the uneven strand of my hair behind my ear, "Believe that boy next time."

"You're reading my mind," I murmured.

He smirked, his lips thin and pink and warm as if they had been kissed lovingly every day of his life. "I've been in business for a hundred and twelve years. If I didn't know a woman's thoughts, I wouldn't be doing my job." He moved away and paused by the adjacent door, turning to meet my gaze, "And if there's one thing you ought to know, I've never lied a day in my life."


	66. Chapter Sixty-Six

_Chapter Sixty-Six_

Sean had come home within days and delivered the news that Lord Devein planned to fly out very soon, though he cryptically hadn't told us when. I had packed for the Monte Carlo trip and counted off the calendar days until the end of school. It felt as if a year had passed in a week with the finalizations to everything in order and Maggie's encouragement over the span of two days that we set a date. When her prompting had become too much, we did.  
Friday, June thirteenth, we were going to be married with all the pomp and circumstance of Irish nobility. And if my mother-in-law-to-be had her way, she'd invite all of Europe to attend. I yanked my grades up and spent my birthday on the property, resting myself before final exams. The stress, as well as vampiric anemia, had gotten to me. But by the Friday afterward, it was a vague memory. Monte Carlo was imminent, and the hype had touched even the students who hadn't anticipated going...myself included.

I walked up to the building with a single suitcase and my sunglasses perched atop my head. Draculaura squealed, dashing over and throwing her arms around me. She had a full-sized luggage set on the steps, and Bram put all of his effort into restraining himself from laughing at the sight. I smoothed her hair, holding her firmly to my shoulder, "What is this?"

"My stuff," she muttered against my shirt.

"Why is there so much of it?" She withdrew with a confused expression, only to have it mirrored in my face. I rose a brow, "You'll be back tomorrow night. My bag isn't even full."

"It's Monte Carlo," she said with a little laugh, "We won't be the only ones."

"You have a boyfriend," Bram reminded her. I couldn't tell if he wanted to acknowledge the fact that we hadn't killed him or that he'd stood by her during the whole turf war. Either way, her eyes widened in shock, "No! I meant notoriety. Famous people. Powerful people."

He rolled his eyes and perched on the steps. I found it very big of him to think less of gaining power now that we had settled in. Draculaura took my hand, her eyes glinting. I glanced to Bram and shook my head. She tugged me off to her locker, turning abruptly and catching my hands in her own. Her eyes were positively glowing. "I think he might want to propose now," she murmured, "After the two of you have gone around so happy together...he loves me, Gory. He tells me all the time. And..."

"And?" I replied, clasping her hands, "I'm happy for you!"

Her eyes fell, a blush coating her cheeks before they rose again, "He's so young. It doesn't feel fair to take all of this away from him."

I laughed out loud and tugged her closer by her dainty little hands. She grinned, looping her arms around my neck in absolute delight. I linked my fingers behind her back, watching as the smirk on my lips dispelled the doubt in her exotic eyes. "The boy may be young, but he's already smarter than my brother figures. If he wants to put a ring on your finger, just do your best to hold off on the kids until college, alright?"

Her face went red. My hand fell and brushed her ribs. She jumped back, clasping her arms over her stomach, making me laugh as I tried to tickle her again. "He loves you," I repeated, grasping her arms when she was close enough, "Let nature take its course. You're both pretty young and immature compared to me."

She stuck her tongue out at me and swatted my hands away, "Well you're old and bitter."

"As spoken by the girl whose heart grew cobwebs," I teased. She clasped her hands over her chest in mock offence. I laughed, clasping her dainty hands in my own and twirling her before bringing her closer to me once again, "Unlike Miss De Nile, who I'm sure had grown cobwebs elsewhere."

She tried to pull away, "You're worse than Clawd."

"Did he tap that while he was with her?" I teased, "Or is that Deuce-exclusive?"

Her cheeks flushed. "We were both...inexperienced."

"Ah, the first time was more Silver Linings Playbook than porn film. I understand."

She withdrew her hands and buried her face in them, sinking back against her locker, "I don't know why I talk to you. You make me feel so..."

"Prudish?"

"Violated." The teasing hadn't fallen flat. I leaned against the lockers at her side and shrugged, "You wouldn't be the only one, you know. Honestly, I think Bram was trying to avoid ever getting there."

Her dainty little brow rose, "It was that bad?"

"Oh sweetheart..." I laughed, "It was pretty bad. We were both...awkward. It was very awkward. It started out fine, but when it got to it..." They were words I had never spoken nor ever thought I'd voice. "I'm not even sure if either of us knew where to _put it._"

She snorted, clasping her hands over her mouth. I tried not to laugh to very little success. "Then there was the manner of...you know. And both of us nearly lost our bloody minds...I mean it was alright, we figured it out eventually, though I think it's been more of an effort to impress each other since. I think he still thinks he's making up for it."

She blushed, "It's fantastic. Even if it wasn't easy at first."

"You don't have to tell me that," I teased, nudging her, "I know when you get to roll in the hay under the moonlight with your wolf boy. You positively _glow_."

She shook her head, "I don't know when you and Bram do it."

I felt like we were truly in high school. "We don't _do it,_ we have a lot more to it than that. And we've been sleeping together for three and a half years, I love him to death and it's the most fantastic sex I'm sure I'll ever have, but I don't positively glow anymore. I'm too corrupt to revel in it the way I used to."

She glanced away. It was probably the most awkward conversation she'd had in her entire life, but it was different for me. She had stepped dutifully into the role of the best girlfriend frequently satisfied by Vinnie and Valentine, and even Vinnie had mentioned how relieved he'd been to hear less and less about my shopping trips and clothing problems. Short of Ruth and Natasha- one who was too philosophical for trivial things, and one who I adored for my friend's affection and yet wouldn't trust to dress me- I didn't have many female friends. They just proved to be back-stabbers on a usual basis. From the first moment, I had known Draculaura wouldn't do that to me. She and Ruth were two of the people I could tolerate for extended amounts of time.

Speak of the devil, my second bridesmaid wandered over and wrapped her arms around my neck. She looked stoned. "Hanging out in the bathroom while Venus held an eco meeting?" I teased.

She looked up with a tinge of exhaustion in her eyes, "That's what that was?"

Draculaura burst into laughter. I tugged her along with us as Lala sprang into the front hall to join her friends. Walter was hanging out with his friends at the top of the stairs and Ruth's fingers wound tighter in my shirt. I smiled and nudged her, "Look alive, soldier."

Cleo de Nile looked up, though, and her eyes narrowed, "What are you so happy about?"

From the state of her face, either she'd been crying or had encountered some sudden ill, and to my karmatic indifference, I replied sharply. "Just thinking about all the fun I'm going to have without you."

Draculaura rolled her eyes, but allowed me to shuffle past with Ruth on one arm and my suitcase in the other. As we ascended to the boys, I took note of Bram's presence among them. They went from a team to deciples in my mind quickly. He looked deistic leaning against the lockers with his plain black shirt showing off his toned muscles and the black denim encasing his lower body practically painted on. His hair, freshly trimmed in the same moody shagginess, glinted like spun gold in the faint rays of outdoor light that managed to filter up to him. Walter opened his arms to welcome Ruth, and she left my hold without another gesture. To my surprise, Jacob and Tiffany were sitting together on the railing. I glanced to my fiancee and wandered over, gesturing to them both openly.

"Apparently she was incredibly drunk the other night and bawling over Astor, so Blanche brought her back to their place to sleep it off and she and Jacob ended up in bed together. It was an awkward morning that apparently neither of them have overlooked."

"That really explains how any woman could put up with him," I replied.

He smirked, "He patted her knee and she hit the pressure point in his wrist. She's not taking any of his shit and if he were allowed to get violent in public, neither would he. They're a regular match made in hell."

I watched the two couples and found myself growing more and more amused. Ruth was not entirely there, lending to her sweetheart sitting down with her and allowing her to use his shoulder for a pillow. Their bags at their feet, they looked like an old, migrating married couple. Jacob and Tiff, on the other hand, were a literal horror story. Their words, though heated, were hushed. He lifted her hand for what she thought was a kiss and bit her finger harshly. She slapped him. He laughed out loud.

"We may not be an entirely properly functioning relationship, but we're not them," Bram murmured in my ear.

I laced my fingers gently with his and imagined where we might've been a century ago. How far had we really come, just in the past few months? I glanced up and pressed my lips very gently to his jaw. "I don't hate the world today."

"Is that because, once again, you've gotten everything you wanted?" he teased. His fingers brushed my neck and the ruby he'd placed there as I dressed this morning- part of a set of which I wore the earrings to as well.

"No," I replied, "It's partly because of that amazing vampire musical on Eurovision, but..." He laughed. My thumb traced the back of his hand, his elegant fingers laced through mine. "I'm happy for a change. Completely depression-free, guiltless happiness. And it's all your damned fault. I was going to make a difference, Bram Devein. I was going to kill everyone and start over, and _you_ just had to go and make me happy."

"How thoughtless of me," he replied with sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Damn right that was thoughtless of you," I teased.

"The busses are loading," one of his friends said as they popped up over the railing.

He nodded in the boy's direction. "Maybe I can be a little more thoughtless at the resort and steal you away from your friends for a while. I brought along some waterproof sunscreen...I'd like to see you in your new swimsuit."

My cheeks colored, "At night?"

"Fine," he resigned, scooping up our bags and kissing me briefly on the lips, "Naughty girl, breaking all the rules."

Walter hoisted Ruth to her feet and followed Bram. Tiff and Jacob headed down behind them, leaving me to watch them go. He stepped out into the full, white-glowing sun and summer warmth, and I headed down the stairs myself. Cleo was still sulking among her little group and I couldn't help but add to her misery just a bit, just to continue boosting my spirits in the throes of my previous victories. "It's too bad you can't come, I'm going to have a fantastic time."

Cleo's head raised and the anger in her eyes was obvious. She was almost about to speak when the chill of the yeti appeared over my shoulder, and as she held something out to them, she sneezed. It was rather instant; the chill became solidified and felt as if it were physically burning my bare skin under the self-sustained ice. It went from my trapped shoes jaggedly toward my knees, and I pulled furiously only to find it dense. Whirling around to face her, my anger flared without control. "You stupid snow dog! Get me out of this!"

Cleo rose fluidly and took a step toward me, smirking as if she'd won. "If you could bottle that temper, maybe you could get it to melt."

I was not about to let her go without victory. She stood there, smirking, waiting for a retaliation. I could've slapped her. Instead, I reached out and touched the chunk of turquoise around her neck. In that setting, it was new...and it was fake. I had no regrets about what I intended to do. Gently, I took it in my fingers and used it to draw her close, "Fuck you." My fingers wound around the chain and crushed the stone in my palm. She yanked back in shock. Fragmented plastic created little cuts in my palm, but she stalked away regardless. Ghoulia sighed. Abbey and the others trailed away, but Draculaura placed her hands on her hips and stared at me, "Why are you always so fucking difficult?"

"Because I'm three hundred and sixty nine years old," I replied as I threw out my hands, "Now shut up and pull."

"If you break your legs..."

"I won't hold it against you, I'm freezing here." Vampires and temperature control never went very well. She reached out and clasped my hands, tugging harshly to no avail. My feet didn't budge and my body only felt like I was stretching to try to appease her. She finally let go, staring down at the ice with disdain. A soft chuckle, smooth as velvet, reached my ears from behind me and made my face go red. "I knew I'd have to wait until you caught up to catch the bus."

"Go," I said to Draculaura, "If we miss this, you don't have to."

She rolled her eyes, "I don't mind, I can go to Monte Carlo any time."

My fiancee was having none of our calm assessment. He set down our bags and kicked the tiny space between my ankles harshly. It cracked, and he kicked twice more until it finally gave. Offering his hands, he scooped me up from the inside of the ice pit and glanced down to my cold-reddened skin. "Bad day to wear sandals," I joked.

He rolled his eyes just as the hydraulic sound of the bus moving away reached our ears.

"Well," Draculaura muttered, "There goes the trip. At least Clawd didn't go."

"Clawd didn't go?" I asked, already thinking up some way to fill our empty day.

"He had football training he didn't want to miss. The summer is their training before the season..." She headed across the entryway and gathered up her bags. The bus disappeared out of the gate and left the three of us standing on the steps. She looked dejected, but I resigned and draped my arm across her shoulders, "Well, darling, looks like the two of us will be spending the weekend together."

"You really want to?" she asked, her eyes brightening like a little girl who hadn't been invited to a birthday party, only to have her best friend stay behind with her.

"Maybe you can help me plan a wedding party." I hadn't had an engagement party, and I didn't plan on having a bachelorette party either. There was no point in celebrating being alone at our age. I glanced to him, partially teasing, "Do we need a toaster or a blender from a wedding shower?"

He laughed out loud, "Like Sean didn't cover it?"

Instead of taking her to my place, though, I glanced down to her with a tiny smile, "Why don't we head back to _la casa de Dracula?_"

For a moment, I thought Bram would actually break into a level of fandom witnessed only by teenage girls at an Avengers premiere or Sheldon Cooper on the set of Star Trek. His wide, beaming smile seemed to ask if her father was home without words, to which she replied, "Alright...follow in your car?"

I kissed her cheek, "Now you can finally properly preach to me about the joys of animal rescue."

She rolled her eyes and headed for her car with an expression of muted indifference that was betrayed in her eyes. She was just as happy to have us as we were happy to join her. Maybe Dracula was supposed to be intimidating.


	67. Chapter Sixty-Seven

_Chapter Sixty-Seven_

Bram had taken our belongings home, allowing me to depart directly from school with Draculaura. Most of the drive was in silence, but as we reached Radcliffe Way, she slowed down and glanced to me with displeased eyes. "Please don't let him scare you off," she murmured, "You and Cleo are honestly the only people I can feel like an adult around, and Cleo..."

I rolled my eyes, "You sorely underestimate me. I hope I don't scare him."

She smiled and pulled completely in to the massive garage. The yard, though small, was gorgeous and overlapped with pretty shade flowers. Instead of departing into the house directly, she led me back outside to where a short, chubby little man was transplanting flowers from their containers into plots of dirt surrounded by little stones on either side of the door. "Does Dad know you're doing this?" Draculaura teased as she knelt beside him, free from worry about the state of her knees.

"No, and I don't care. He doesn't live here most of the time, and you have to admit it's not healthy to be this dark and gloomy."

She kissed his cheek and glanced to me, smoothing down her pleated skirt and leaving her tiny hands to rest on the hem. "Gory, this is my uncle, Vlad."

He looked up, bumping up his tortoise shell glasses and breaking into a wide, fanged smile. I could see where Draculaura's energy and positive disposition had come from. He held out his slightly dirty hand, and against my usual inclination for cleanliness, I grasped it firmly. "These are beautiful flowers."

"You like them?" he asked, glancing down at them, "I think the wallflowers wanted more sun than this, but they've been growing well right here."

Clusters of color lined in orange brought light to the eye. The shaded little Victorian was quaint and a bit dated, but even from the outside, it felt like a home. She patted his shoulder and rose elegantly. She straightened like a mantis with such fluidity that she seemed to embody living art. "Just call if you need any help."

He chuckled and returned to planting his Portulacas as if we had never been there. She glanced to me and gestured widely, "This is my home."

"It's lovely," I replied, allowing her to lead the way in. It was dark and cozy, and despite the length of her clothes, their heating system wasn't on. She paused in the entryway and closed the door, allowing my eyes a moment to skim the room in all of its glory. It was very much like my home with its winding stairs and darkened halls. Rich, red walls cloaked in darkness and polished floors, save for a little living space that led into the adjacent kitchen in the back. The garage was obviously on the side of the stairs, and despite having little to see on the lower floor, it was a luxury with obvious taste. Upon a mantle sat a little curved clock and a metronome. There was a record player nestled in the corner amid the closed drapes, and I could see the checkerboard tiles of the kitchen. "It's like a chess set," I murmured, imagining the faces of antique knights in the molding of the little den. She gestured down the hall, "That's my father's 'study.' I'll show you later."

She turned, elegantly, on her heel and ascended the stairs with a bouncy step that caused her skirt to swish back and forth like the tail of a pony. There were only four rooms on the second floor, and despite their size I still felt as if I could fit sixteen of her homes in mine. "Uncle Vlad's room, my father's room, the guest room, and last but certainly not least..." She swung open the door with all the drama of a stage manager and a myriad of animal sounds rose from the room inside.

"Let me guess, yours?"

She stepped in and flocked to the little creatures in various states of caged and un-caged living. A pair of dogs had made themselves at home on her bed, a bald looking cat slinking around on the floor. Some mice, a turtle, some other various rodents and amphibious or aqueous life forms. There were also a few birds, but the bat in the corner attracted my attention. He perched on her closet door with a little mask over his eyes, and he was bound so tightly in his wings that I worried he'd crush himself.

"That's Count Fabulous," she said with a wide smile, "He's my baby."

The bat was either soundly asleep or ignoring his affectionate owner. One of the dogs, a fluffy-curled little poodle, launched itself off her bed and onto my legs, barking and nipping at the edge of my skirt. I laughed and scooped the little thing up. It sniffed my face and began licking my chin, a stumpy tail beating my forearm insistently. I caressed the curls of fur and sunk onto her shockingly pristine floor. It was obvious that she lived in this room and lived well. Stacks of notebooks, interest books and paper sat upon her desk with her computer. A vase of flowers sat by the window, giving the room light when the sun could not. She was well organized, so much so that I didn't want to enter her closet for fear of the illusion being broken. The faint scents of animal food came from under her bed, and I imagined most of her visible free space was spent on tending to the animals in her care.

It was as if she were trying to test me. Once I'd become obviously accustomed to the dog, she withdrew a bunny from a cage and placed it on my chest. It had pink eyes and a fat body, but it was coated in velvety fur. It trembled with terror until I ran my fingers slowly from the crown of its skull to its fluffy stub tail. A slow caress along its spine soothed it into rest. One of the birds took up residence beside me and I stared at it seriously, "If you take a bathroom break on me, I don't care who you belong to, I'll eat you."

It squawked and began toying with my hair, causing me to shrink away, "Draculaura, this goddamned bird is eating me."

She giggled and watched my discomfort with her wide, innocent eyes, "He likes you. He's trying to groom you."

"Tell him I can do that myself, you speak bird." The rabbit was nestling its face into my chest and the dog seemed asleep on my knees. I was surrounded by things that my lessors would've consumed without second thought, and I was less than reluctantly in love with them.

We talked for a while about them, about where they came from and whether they were hers or just going to live here until they could find homes. Gradually, she told me that she had begun caring for animals during her childhood and the urge to do good had only escalated through her life. While her father committed atrocity after atrocity against humankind, she had sought to right them. The more death from their family's hands, the more she sought to bring things back to life. She tended plants and animals and fed strays, ran to the gates of her castle in the day and whipped coins out through the gates into throngs of hungry gypsy children and tried to be the person they thought she was.

"I suppose all of the feeding just weighed on my conscience," she said as she caressed the back of the furless cat, "So when...it happened, I just...broke."

"You're stronger than you think," I replied. "It takes guts to give all of it up. The violence, the blood, the relief...I suppose we're all just obsessive-compulsive addicts in the end. We'll relapse and relapse until it gets us killed, but you...you decided that you could overcome it. You have. And you have no idea how much effort that takes."

She shrugged, "It just makes me sick. Even if it's not directly from the source, that's blood someone else could be in need of. If I have it, then they're not getting it, and I could be killing someone."

I shrugged, "I only take from one donor."

"One?" she asked, "I thought you went to blood banks."

"I do," I replied, "But there's a donor network, and I have a list. Things have changed. There's the blood for the humans and there's blood for us. Only in the rare occasion that some blood decides to go bad and some scrap-eater wants it do the systems cross paths."

She seemed to assess my words and their truth for a long time, her eyes downcast to the bare skin of the animal in her arms.

"Who is this?"

The velvety tone from the doorway sent a sharp, cold chill down my spine while subsequently warming every ounce of blood in my body. I lifted my eyes and beheld the man that I was sure, without a singular doubt in my mind, was Dracula. He had tanned once and it was still visible in his skin, but it had faded. His hair was glossy, straight and longer than most. The animals shied away, so much so that I was forced to hand the rabbit over to Draculaura as the poodle evacuated me. She cuddled and caressed the little bun to her chest, "This is Gory Fangtell, Dad. My friend from school."

He glanced down at me with a raised brow and I flashed some fang, "Yes, Mr. D. That kind of friend."

Instantly, his eyes warmed to me and he extended his hands, "Ah, another vampire. I'm very proud to see a lovely young lady like you in the company of my daughter." Maybe I'd be good influence on her, he was surely thinking.

I blushed and lowered my head respectfully, "It's an honor to be in her presence and in yours. You have a lovely home and a beautiful family."

"She's engaged," Draculaura interjected.

I lifted my eyes and nearly found myself twice as flustered as I had been in the presence of Paul Bathory. This was the king of the undead, the leader of the monster world, and his garnet eyes were so warm they could've been liquid. His hands around mine were firm with ages of past physical work and smoothed by luxury that had surely carried him his entire life. It was impossible not to see how every other woman on earth found him attractive. Whether he was king or not, had he nudged my side and whispered how deeply he longed for a bite, I would've offered my neck happily. His eyes were enchanting, alluring even to his own kind, and his body wasn't lacking any either. He kissed my knuckles with the tenderness of a gentlemen, "I'll leave you girls to your gossip. It's been a pleasure meeting you, Gory."

"She's younger than me!" Draculaura blurted as her father released my hand. Something told me how very used to younger women he was. The flush traced from my cheeks throughout my chest, and I looked to her with the flustered adoration of a teenage girl.

"You have been the only girl I have ever seen become friends with me and still catch my father's interest." Her eyes, while carefully hiding any measure of anger or betrayal, were irritated. I could tell the irritation was not directed at my reverence, but her father's disregard for the boundary she'd set clearly in her mind.

"How many times has he been married?" I asked, sinking onto the foot of her bed.

"Four," she replied almost venomously, "With countless lovers in between."

I wondered if he was lonely. He must've seen amazing things and awful things. Surely he'd perfected the art of bedding a woman but never had one care to hear what he had to say. The amorous stories of Prince Vlad had never neglected to spread like wildfire in the old country, and I longed to ask himself if he had done all the beautiful and wild things they said he had. While love was a far cry from the affection that had bloomed nearly instantly in my heart for the warrior prince with the free daughter, I could see how very easily a young human girl could find him the most amazing thing in her pitiful life. A surge of color among white. A comet so bright it blotted out the other stars.

"Please don't tell me you're going to leave me for him," she nearly whimpered.

"Of course not," I replied, "but I'd love to talk with him one day." At her skeptical gaze, I held up my hands defensively, "Just talk. He's got to want someone to empathize with, and I am enough of a sociopath to understand."

"You're a downright psychopath," she said, placing the fat rabbit on my lap.

Silence permeated the space between us for a very long time. Her irritation gradually ebbed away under the affection of her pets, and my mind wandered back to earlier thoughts. "I want you to help me plan a wedding party," I finally said, "Not a bachelorette or an engagement, but encompassing it all."

"A wedding shower," she replied.

I shrugged, "I don't need gifts. Just a party. Sharing our happiness with the others, like they used to do when Paul's mother was around."

She laughed lightly, "You've met with Paul?"

I nodded. Very few people got to enjoy life the way I imagined Elizabeth Bathory once had or Dracula did. My fingers caressed the tender spine of the bunny and I knew how fragile the life in my arms was, how easily I could end it and with a sudden surge of agony, I knew that it pained me to think that way.

"I want this to be the end of my life," I murmured. She sat up, but I placed my hand flat against her leg and silenced her. "I want this life to be over so I can move onto my next. Bram and I...we need to start over. No more killing, no more lies, no more power struggles...I want to be here. With you, with them, and happy. It would be lovely to be happy all the time, and not just...moments of content."

A little smile crossed her face and she laced her fingers through mine, "It would be a pleasure to plan your funeral."


	68. Chapter Sixty-Eight

_Chapter Sixty-Eight_

School officially ended at the crest of the next week after two half-days of finals. Draculaura had a greater capacity for artistic vision than I'd realized, and she made it clear in the elegant designing of my place for a party so grand it would put Jay Gatsby to shame. About a hundred strands of lights caressed the wooded path up toward the house, and by Maggie's insistence, we had a kilometer of fencing around the street-facing border of the property topped in a wrought iron and tarnished brass gate with the Devein crest, from a manor in the moors that had been converted into one of the castle's guest houses. I had drawn the line at the fountain, and instead of having a grand one in front of the house, there was a little rock-bordered one at the outer nook of the veranda. Since it's installation, it lured over many thirsty animals for viewing from the house. Surely, Maggie would've loved to go the entire century's worth of luxuries on the property, but with everything as it was, it was good enough.

The evening of the party happened to be an exact week from the failed Monte Carlo trip, and it held much more significance than I would've liked it to. It was the last day of May, exactly two weeks from my wedding, and my father-in-law was arriving.

Sean had already broken into the whiskey, his arm in a sling on the side he'd been shot, "Long live the king!"

"Wrong father," Bram replied, cleaning up after his brother and wandering from room to room as if he were inspecting for imperfections. I leaned on the railing of the upper hall, breathing deeply through my nose. The warm scent of salted meats reached my senses and brought me momentary calm, but I had to be honest with myself. My trig final had nearly made me sick with fright, having their father in my house as my official second-father-to-be was driving me to insanity. I wracked my brain for prior knowledge if he'd been more than indifferent to the world the last time I'd been with their family and recalled only a memory of the older man and his fascination with derby horses. Maybe that had been the only time since our introduction that we'd spent together.

"Gory, breathe," Draculaura reminded me.

I forced myself to. She gently tugged me into my room, throwing clothes at me and chatting away as if I were fully capable of paying attention. I dressed mechanically. It was only when I needed her help to fasten my royal blue corset that I fully returned to a functioning state. It was going to be a night of celebration in which Bram and Sean would cover formalities with their father, I would prove myself to be the proper candidate for the future mantel of Lady Devein, and everything would be okay. Draculaura worked a miracle with my hair, covering the strands of violet in black and twisting them into an elegantly pinned bun- no cheats involved. A single layer of a creme taffeta petticoat separated my skin from the royal blue satin of my dress. The shoulders were teasingly low but not nearly low enough to touch my triceps. The circular cut gave my skin a bit more modesty than an angular cut and a gentle loop up to the back of my neck without dipping. I was terrified slipping into my velvet-lined flats, but Draculaura's hand remained on my hip, whether out of fear that I would faint or moral support I didn't know and didn't care to. I was grateful either way.

She slid a little silver comb with a line of tiny opals into my hair at the base of my bun and stepped back, turning me so she could see. I wrung my hands.

"Has Daisy changed her mind?" she teased, rifling through her bag.

"Not when she's marrying Jay," I replied, channeling the nervous energy into a wide smile.

"Good, because I was going to give you these anyway. For having the guts to do what no one else can, and no one else's parents will let them do." It was only a momentary reminder of how little my parents actually cared- otherwise they would've come- but the thought only crossed my mind for a moment. I clasped my freshly painted nails to my mouth and stared with shock at the lovely string of pearls in her hands. "Oh, _Laura!_"

"Shh," she replied, climbing onto the bed beside me and draping it gently around my neck. She fastened the clasp while my eyes teared. A little bit of liner and a touch of waterproof mascara, but enough makeup to get ruined by tears. She draped herself over my shoulders, her arms wrapped tightly around me like the sister I'd never had. "All you need is a little mink wrap and you could replace a Hollywood star."

I laced my fingers through his, whispering with the fervor I couldn't release, "I can't accept this."

"Yes, you can," she whispered, kissing my cheek, "and you will. I want you to be happy." As she fussed with the necklace, twirling it and twisting it gently against my skin, "You know we all intend for you to be."

She looked like a little sprite in a middle-sleeved, forest green frock of a dress, so plain and simple I felt like I was overshadowing her thousandfold. I squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek in return, wishing there were a way to express my gratitude. "Whatever you want, take it," I breathed.

She rolled her eyes, "I'd ask for his brother, but I'm spoken for."

I laughed. My timing to rise was perfect, it seemed. The familiar beep of the horn of Maggie's car as it pulled up to the house pierced the uneasy calm and sent a spike of tension through the air. I stopped in my tracks, glancing to Draculaura. To my ears, no one rushed for the door. Ice clinked in Sean's glass. The door to the veranda shut with a whisper of air as Bram came inside. Draculaura flashed me an optimistic smile and shooed me for the door, just as I heard the air disperse in its opening.

"Dad," Bram said in a gently hushed tone, "It's nice to see you again."

"It's nice to hear you managed to do something with your life," Lord Devein replied. I began down the stairs. He headed into the main room and set down his bags, "Still an artist?"

"Among many other things," Bram replied. I could see them both now, and the measure of how alike they looked startled me for a moment. His father was like an older version of him with shorter hair and muscles like Sean. My fiancee glanced to me and smiled warmly, his eyes teasing me in the way his words couldn't. _I was so sure you'd wear red,_ they whispered.

"Gory," Lord Devein said, his voice going from thunderous boom to a whisper-chuckle all at once. He held both of his hands out for me and I extended my own, managing the last few steps with more elegance than I had imagined myself capable. "My lordship, it's an honor."

"Please, consider me as you would consider your own father." He took my hands in his and kissed them warmly. He dropped them and rested his hand at the center of my back, guiding me into his side, at the same time promising comfort and reminding me that he was the authority and the lordship. Maggie brought in what I assumed was the last one of his bags and shut the door, shaking her head. "Why don't the two of you show me your home?"

Bram offered his arm and silently promised the opposite of his father. With little hesitation, I slipped my arm through his and trailed after him like a fixture, letting him do the talking and explain the little details of the house from the basement up. I did the talking in regards to our books and the details of living, and apparently it was exactly the role his father wanted me to have. By the end of our tour, his father seemed appeased and Bram seemed infinitely more irritated than he had to begin with. Maggie had given him his own room and told him that until he learned how to carry his own luggage, he'd be there; a sentiment that she affirmed my authority with in a little wink that hadn't been the slightest bit discreet.

"Got to love that nothing's changed," Sean said, toasting the both of us with another full glass of whiskey. He stood beside the sofa Draculaura had perched on, and from her muted gaze I could tell she loved my father-in-law as much as his rebellious sons.

"Hypocritical bastard," Bram muttered. I perched beside Draculaura and flashed her a warm smile. She responded with a demure roll of her eyes, but placed her hand in mine and locked them tightly together. Sean's resentment came from pressure akin to my feelings in regards to my parents, Bram's from mutual judgement.

"Am I doing something with my life," he nearly snapped, "Yes, having more than one major and a broad education that puts most of this nation's political figures to shame. At least my woman loves me."

"Keep it down," Sean muttered, "She loves 'im. She puts up with him, doesn't she?"

Bram wrung his hands until they shook, finally surrendering to pouring himself a drink after a few moments of silent scowling. "I wish she loved him for his money."

"Yeah, I'm sure people say that about the two of ya," Sean replied as he glanced between myself and my fiancee.

"Chauvinistic pig," Draculaura muttered, much to Bram's amusement.

"That's perfect," he replied, taking a small sip of whiskey and making a slight face as it burned his throat on the way down, "The exact adjective I was looking for."

...

Nearly all of our peers had showed up to our party, and a few had brought their parents upon hearing of the presence of my father-in-law through the grapevine. Ramses De Nile accompanied Cleo, Dracula had come to back Draculaura, and Clawrk and Harriet Wolf trailed their entire pack of children. While I lingered in the corner with my less-socially-appealing friends, Cleo brought her little group over and paused before me. Her designer-looking dress was made of mummy linens, bumping up her full breasts and showing off a great expanse of caramel colored leg. Her hair fell, dark and straight, over her shoulders like a cascade of Nile water. They all looked beautiful for me, but once again, Cleo had stolen their show from them and nearly stolen it from me.

"I have to admit...you throw a killer party." She held out a perfectly manicured caramel hand. If she wanted a truce...she'd get one. I slid my hand into hers and clasped it in my other, lowering my chin humbly. "Thank you. You look beautiful."

"I tried not to show you up. Looks like I didn't." Her skin was warm for a dead girl. In turn, each of her friends gushed to me about the party and even though I accepted their compliments, it was hardly a party like I wanted to throw. I wanted music and dancing, not wandering and snacking or complete boredom. The Wolf brothers, and most of the males in Salem, had stationed themselves in the kitchen in front of a portable TV and were watching some sporting event. The den and upper level were closed off, but the veranda and the subsequent yard housed gossiping girls that had spilled out from the main room. I was uncomfortable. I wanted to swing dance and celebrate, not confine myself to a corner and worry myself prematurely gray.

Blessedly, before long, Maggie called everyone to attention. Bram and I joined his parents on the stairs, but Sean couldn't be bothered to move from the game. He led the first round of cheers to break the silence, lending to most of the boys realizing it was silent and scurrying in, save for a few of the guys I'd known for years, Jonas included.

"Thank you all for coming," Maggie said warmly, "It's nights like tonight when I'm honored to see that my son and his bride-to-be have such a large number of close, true friends."

Clawdeen Wolf glanced to me. I quirked the corner of my lip in a smirk, hoping she accepted it for the invitation it was.

"Tonight, we celebrate their marriage before it occurs. My son was a boy who was married to his work before he found a girl he intended to wed, so I don't think he's ever known what it was like to be a young bachelor like his father." A little chuckle rose from the parents. His father actually smiled. "As I have known Gory for quite some time, I know she's had much the same experience as Bram. I'm sure you all can agree that first love remains forever, whether it be the one we marry or not. Though I am very happy to say...sometimes first time's the charm."

Clawrk and Harriet looked to each other. Dracula squeezed his daughter's shoulder, and I thought I saw a ghost of a smile cross Ramses' face. "To Bram and Gory. May their love outlast eternity."

Those who had something to toast did so, and the boys watching sports let out a round of cheers that ebbed out into the main room. Bram blushed, drawing me just a bit closer by my waist.

"Kiss her!" Frankie shouted, sparking at the neck bolts.

I giggled, but obliged, throwing my peers into a frenzy of glee. There was a ripping screech, the thrum of a motor, and loud shouting of mixed tones. Our crowd silenced and the doors swung open. A few people shied away, but at the _clump_ of Doc Martens, I glanced to Bram and broke into a beaming grin. He released me instantly.

"Babydoll, I'm ba-ack!" Vinnie declared, throwing his leather-clad arms open to their full wingspan. I launched myself off the stairs and tore through the crowds of gazing monsters to my best friend's arms. He scooped me up and swung me around, burying his face into my hair and sniffing once, "Christ, you smell expensive."

"Shut up," I replied on a laugh, squeezing him with all the force in my arms. He crushed me against his body, his fingers tangling in my elegantly styled hair, "I wanna let this down. This ain't you enough, babe."

"I could kiss you," I muttered into his skin.

"Not in front of your boyfriend, you can't," he said without censoring his volume control. He drew back and did just that anyway, placing a wet and brotherly kiss right on my mouth. I wiped it afterward, wrinkling my nose in playful distaste. Charlie rushed up to me and flung his arms around me, squeezing me until I was aware of his strength, and Natasha wandered up in a more beautiful guise than I had ever seen her. A tie-dyed dress draped lovingly over her body, black curls loose and caressing her white skin. She grasped my hands and kissed my cheeks, "Congratulations."

The greaser and the hippie. I'd never been more proud. As I tugged my three favorite people into the throngs, introducing them to everyone and allowing them to beeline to Bram, I thought I saw a flicker of unhappiness in my father-in-law's eyes.


	69. Chapter Sixty-Nine

_Chapter Sixty-Nine_

That night, I fell asleep against the side of the bed still in my party dress with Vinnie, Charlie and Natasha sprawled across the floor around me. As soon as introductions had been made and my guests cleared away, I'd given them the updated tour and caught them up on everything they'd missed personally. Waking in the morning was a chore.

Vinnie was completely horizontal on the floor, his arm tucked under his head and jacket removed and brought up to shield his face from daylight. Charlie remained asleep against the dresser, and I rose with my gathered mementos to get dressed. It was an occasion with little elegance, so I simply changed everything and removed the corset. After finishing up, I took notice of my fiancee sprawled comfortably in our bed and smiled to myself. The boys would surely have fun waking him when they had, but for the moment, I wandered out to find Natasha. The opposite wing seemed dead silent with its residents still asleep. The kitchen, like every morning, was alive, though this morning there was a different occupant.

Still wearing the same dress from the night before, Natasha had fried up perfectly cooked bacon and ham and was working on grease-soaked, herb-dressed eggs that also seemed to be smothered in salted butter. My stomach clenched in anticipation. She smiled and tossed a glance over her shoulder, her eyes warmer than the last time we had seen each other. "We have a painted tortoise now, you know. I'm surprised Charlie hasn't been on a rave about him. He _was_ the one who insisted. His name is Aesop."

"Congratulations," I replied, taking up a seat. "And you and Vinnie are also well?"

She beamed, her warm carnation colored lips spreading like paintbrush swipes back over her pearly fangs, "Better than I'd ever imagined. And Ruth doesn't hate me too much?"

"Of course not," I replied, "She and Walter are closer than ever."

The joy didn't fade from her eyes. The shiny, bouncy curls fell over the front of her shoulders like a curtain of fluid, ebony chains. "I'm glad. We're a happy little family out there, but we didn't intend to miss your wedding."

"You're not staying?" I teased. It was sad, but not too sad in relation to her happiness.

"No," she replied, "I'm fed up with school and so is Vinnie. We're making Charlie squeeze in the rest of high school in Vancouver, but after that, we're just going to be as we are. There's a nice little colony there. I didn't think bats were capable of becoming doves, but you've proven me wrong again."

She made cooking an art. The pristine, refined Natasha that had left this city more than a month ago was gone. The ghost of a being that had lived at Belfry Prep was gone for all of us. We had been stuck in a world of black, white, gray and shades of red, and for the first time we were open to color. She dished out food on five plates and set my pan back down on the stovetop, finally turning and meeting my eyes. Her skin was perfect. Everything about her looked refined to perfection from happiness. "You'll be the next of us," I teased.

She smiled, pulling up the chair across from me, "I really should force him after he saddles me with his child ward."

"Ya don't gotta force me to do anything, babe," Vinnie said as he entered. I'd only seen him without his jacket a few times, but it looked as if he was using it for security less and less. His shirt was light denim and partially open over his undershirt, sleeveless and in better state than most of his clothes. The greaser pulled his flower child girlfriend in for a kiss that she willingly obliged, and I broke into a wicked smile, "You're not talking about Charlie, are you?"

Natasha withdrew suddenly with flaring blush in her cheeks, a sign of more blood in her body than usual. Vinnie rolled his eyes, "You must've been either really drunk or really tired last night if it took you this long to notice."

"Vinnie," she chastised, pretending she hadn't heard me.

"Don't bother hiding it from her, Christ. What, we're going to go off and keep the kid a secret now? Yeah, we had an accident, we're capable of it. And we're going to raise he, she, or them, just fine thanks." He stabbed a chunk of scrambled eggs and kissed her cheek again, "Now quit worrying."

"Seventy year old high school dropout tells me not to worry," she muttered, poking the piece of ham with her knife.

"Yeah, I am. I got a job up North," he looked to me for positive confirmation, "We have a place, he has a brother and you're not on drugs, we're fine."

"We're setting a horrible example," she replied.

He rolled his eyes, "Tash, she's older than both of us. She doesn't give a goddamn. School is school t' people like us."

Obviously they'd had this conversation many times before. She rolled her eyes and resigned, resting her hand on his knee as his draped over her shoulders. They were a couple of teenagers in love from a decade long past. I chewed and swallowed my bite of eggs and threw in my two cents. "If my opinion matters, I think you two will make wonderful parents." My eyes lifted, meeting Vinnie's, "but you should really think about marrying her now."

He rolled his eyes and looked at her, "Tash, how many times have I proposed?"

"Seven," she replied.

"How many times did you put me off?" he continued in an attempt to prove his point to me.

"Nine," she teased, her eyes meeting mine. "You have no idea how fast I'm putting on weight. There better not be multiples."

"And she'd be mortified to show in a dress," he said, putting on his best girlish tone to mimic her. She jabbed her elbow into his ribs gently, making him laugh and kiss the curls at the nape of her neck. Casual talk, the chirpy tone of Charlie's voice and the smooth, fluid sound of Bram's caressing my ears before they wandered in. Charles was growing into one adorable young man, and Bram had cleaned up despite his mussed hair. He kissed my cheek in passing and sat beside me, digging in immediately and leaving the younger boy to take the seat at the head of our table.

We ate in the comfortable silence of family until a pair of things happened simultaneously. My phone rang, I picked it up right then and there since it was only Valentine, and the rest of the Devein family wandered in. Maggie was bright as ever, Sean muttering with a mixture of physical and alcohol-induced pain, but the Lordship took one look at Charlie at the head of the table and snapped, "_Abraham._"

My fiancee looked up with a mouthful of food. Natasha and Vinnie quieted. Maggie scowled and Sean bypassed the table to pour himself a drink.

"What?" Bram replied.

"I have my flight," Valentine said in my ear.

"One second," I replied to him.

"Why is that boy in your place?" he thundered.

Vinnie rolled his eyes, "Because it's not fifteen sixty-four?"

Sean snorted. Maggie smiled slightly, reaching out to pat her husband's forearm. He leaned on the back of the chair with a scowl, staring directly in my fiancee's eyes. Bram swallowed and quirked a shoulder, "Because I wanted to sit beside my fiancee? Because Vincent wanted to sit by his?"

"This is your house," he hissed.

"I am on the phone," I said suddenly. The boldness surprised even me, and when Lord Devein's eyes landed on me, I steeled my disposition the same way I had once to my own parents. "And this is my bloody house as much as his. We live here and run our own household. Very politely, my lordship, I acknowledge your nobility and tell you that I am marrying your son, not your tradition, and if you will so kindly sit down and eat and stop questioning my family, that would be _lovely_."

Natasha smiled without resignation. Charlie looked down at his food, though, as if he were the one that had been yelled at instead of Bram. I rose and carried my phone into the den, "Yes, Val?"

"I have my flight," he repeated, "Who was that?"

"My father-in-law," I muttered while pinching the bridge of my nose. The action bumped my glasses a bit upward, and I sunk onto the arm of the couch with intent to rest myself. Wedding stress might've been eased by Maggie's aid, but dealing with the arrival of His Lordship had driven me to the brink. "When are you coming?"

"The eleventh," he replied, "Your parents will be on a separate flight."

I laughed, nodding, "Alright. Tell them to please avoid bringing gifts."

"If they do, I'll conveniently return them for something you'd want," he replied.

"I love you," I exhaled in relief. Valentine was definitely candidate for brother of the year, even if he could be a selfish, tempermental little twerp.

"How's Draculaura?" he inquired as usual.

"Still not single, Val," I replied. "Call me later? I have to deal with my overstepping family."

"As usual," he muttered, "Take care of yourself."

I ended the call and housed my phone in a small, hollow-centered book during breakfast. When I returned, Sean was sitting at the table with the others, nursing a glass of whiskey and a plate of fruit and meat. His father was scowling still, something Maggie brushed off entirely while slathering an English muffin in jam. Before I could return to my seat, though, Lord Devein rose to block my entry to the room. My brows rose and his lips quirked upward in delight, "I'm incredibly glad the stories held up."

It had been a test all along. Bram rolled his eyes. Still, I extended my hand to the future-former-Lord. "Truce, old sport?"

He clasped my hand in one of his larger ones, giving a gentle squeeze and pulling me in for a warm hug, "Truce, little one."

For the umpteenth time, the Devein family had upstaged my own. Sean was a better brother than Valentine, Maggie a better mother than my own, and even the lord a more affectionate father; even with a wicked sense of humor. As he crushed my cheek to his chest, I found the likely once hardened muscles a much softer firmness than the past. There must've been some gray in his golden hair, as there must've been in Maggie's. I pressed my lips together and wrapped my arms around his hulking torso in return.

"You're gonna crush her," Sean commented. The Lord Devein didn't release me much to my delight. He might've been the only thing keeping me together at the moment. I hoped they were early for a change. I hoped my parents brought me a stupid gift that I didn't want and smothered me in affection and vowed to tell embarrassing childhood stories at the reception that they would never follow through on. I wanted my father to squeeze me to his chest and hold me this tightly, promise that I'd exceeded his expectations and for my mother to whisper tearfully that I was a more beautiful bride than she had been. I didn't want them to ask Valentine for help finding me a gift. I wanted him to embarrass me by bringing a joke gift or locking Bram and I together in handcuffs that he called wedding bands like he'd teased of doing. I was happy, but I had no idea how much I wanted.

It was the plight of the artist to long for acceptance and worth. I knew they needed me, but I also knew that the need went unexpressed. Until it did, I would cling to my new family. They were the family that did accept me. They were the family that accepted the both of us, and while at times their teasing was a bit cruel, they were not in their hearts. Some cruelty was learned, and I didn't blame my parents. I had been cruel most of my life myself. It hadn't released the longing for my familial unit to be complete, though, with Ruth, Walter, Jonas, Val...and my parents here with me.


	70. Chapter Seventy

_Chapter Seventy  
For some reason, I'm just not entirely happy with this right now...leave me some love if I'm being full of it. It was just a really hard focusing day _ I think I'm tired.  
_

Sunlight cascaded across the castle grounds, having long drawn my panic into muted calm. I had been staring down at the swaying trees for a long while after the carriages and cars had arrived and I had come to terms with the full knowledge that my guests were settling in below and I didn't know half of them.

"Deep breaths," Paul commented as he fussed over my hair. In their plum satin dresses, Ruth and Draculaura hung off to the side, hair pinned up and makeup flawless. At long blessed last, he turned me toward the virtual mirror and allowed me a long-awaited glance before departing.

My hair freely brushed my shoulders, the bangs swept aside and pinned beneath the braided frontal strands. A circlet of white gold and a single, tear-drop garnet draped my veil across my hair, a blatant refusal of tradition. My eyes skimmed the gathered fabric at my shoulders and the crushed black velvet against the rich scarlet bodice. Wedding dresses had seemed to escalate to a prom-like grandness, but mine was as beautiful and simple as my life, and my black suede slippers didn't peek out from under the scarlet train. My appearance caused no greater surprise than my own.

"I can't breathe," I finally whispered and clutched Paul's hand. He laughed, clutching mine in reply and giving it a firm squeeze, "Well then don't. You don't have to be alive to be in love!" He stuffed the bouquet into my free hand and made eye contact with a hint of scrutiny to his masterpiece. "If your face wasn't so pretty, I'd have made you get rid of those glasses."

Sean threw open the door and opened his arms widely, "Girls, hurry the hell up! We're dyin' down here!"

Draculaura and Ruth giggled, slipping past him with quick calls of praise and reassurance for me. Paul kissed both my cheeks, murmured "make him proud," and followed. I was frozen in place under Sean's teasing gaze. He winked and gave me a quick thumbs up, but his presence in the door was overshadowed by the silent approach that marked Valentine's appearance.

"Thank god," I whispered, reaching out to him as he rounded the entryway into my room. He beamed, tugged me closer and kissed my cheeks warmly. I wrapped him in a tight hug, "I can't do this."

"You should've run off to Vegas while you had the chance," he murmured. "They're not here. Something happened and they had to go to Italy last night. I don't know the details, but they're incredibly sorry. If they could be here, they would be; you know that, right?"

I nodded. My parents were the farthest thought from my mind. "How many people are down there?"

"Maybe two hundred," he replied. I didn't know two hundred people and I was sure Bram didn't either.

"Did they invite the entire town?" I whispered as he strung his arm gently through mine and began leading me down the stairs.

"No, but they're celebrating outside. It's turning into William and Kate's wedding all over again." His lighthearted words didn't help in the slightest. I could hear faint music and expected that Lala and Vinnie would be arm-in-arm about now, and he'd make her the color of a tomato before she fully entered the room. I squeezed Valentine's arm gently, "Don't let me trip."

His hand rested over mine and a quirk rose to his lips that I hadn't seen before. "I won't."

The sureness of his tone restored the calm I had felt watching the trees. Of course my father hadn't come to give me away; what had I expected when I'd asked him to? Valentine was not blood, but he was functioning just as well as any biological brother had the capability to. I took a deep breath and focused on my knowledge of my reflection. For the first time, I thought myself Bram's equal in beauty. I was beautiful enough to stand by his side in front of two hundred people. Valentine's hand clasped mine a little tighter and we stepped forward into the beginning of a new life.

The chapel of the castle was built during the warring age between England and Ireland. It had surely seen a better day, but the stained glass was once again bright and repairs had been made especially for this occasion. People, crammed in like sardines, filled the pews of our little hall with more color than I could bare. The small gatherings of violet and lily were bursts of conflicting shade among the dressings of roses. The floral smell penetrated every corner. But in the crystal veil of sunlight that seemed to stream from heaven itself, Bram stood before of them all. His golden hair glinted flawlessly, his alabaster skin silken to the very sight. He could've been a painting. We all could've. My slippers brushed the much-loved carpet of the isle, the organ groaning out its luscious and romantic tune. I did not bother to search the crowd for those I knew would be in attendance, not when I had his eyes to hold. For a moment, I thought he was as surprised as I had been at my reflection. His ruby gaze caressed the dress and settled on my face, so warm and full of life that it felt like we were crossing an invisible border into the land of the truly alive. As Valentine released my arm, I did a pre-emptive toss of the flowers over to Natasha. She blushed, sinking a bit in her front-row seat. Charlie took them from her grip and set them in his lap, relieving the laughter of our guests just a bit.

An entire world of our kind had sprouted in Ireland. Vampires who still believed in churches and nobility and the old ways were as common here as blades of grass. My fiancee slipped his hands into mine and exhaled audibly. I smiled in reply, knowing it was the first breath either of us had taken all day.

I had never been to church a day in my life and didn't care to be, so I let the Devein family's priest ramble on about marriage and what a blessing it had been that Lilith and Cain had brought us together. I stared into his eyes, and vaguely heard the whispers of how love among us was more sacred than human love, as Adam had rejected the first of us and her son...Judas had perished for his guilt and had been damned to immortality. In the desolate abyss of eternity, how blessed were we to find each other after such a "short" time...

"Are they usually this depressing?" I whispered to him.

He beamed, lacing his fingers with my own. "Only the vampire ones."

His lips were a deeper shade of pink, warm from having fed and begging to be kissed in our haste to finish. Eternity could be an abyss, but it surely was nowhere near as long as listening to a man ramble about God. Any god, I thought, ought to just be content with quiet worship. I asked for no one to pledge themselves to me. I knew they looked upon me reverently. Without having twitched a finger toward conquest, I had done exactly what I intended not to. There were two hundred people in this room that believed in us, that followed us, and were witnessing us as we had always been. His thumb softly caressed my knuckles and his smile never fell. I was entranced. He wore a full suit, complete with a little rose tucked in his breast pocket. I could've teased him about forgetting his crown, but very gently, he pulled me closer and whispered into my ear, "I have special words for you."

I wiggled free from his grip, blushing at his smile. He lifted my hand, tracing the first ring he'd placed there, and spoke so quietly I feared no one could hear him- but it didn't matter. His words were only for me.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

"That's from _The Corpse Bride,"_ I whispered, trying to withhold my laughter.

He grinned, "I know. I just thought it fit." He waited, trying to fool me into thinking he was done. After a teasingly prolonged silence in which neither of us caved on his ruse, he kissed my knuckles and spoke with more volume. "I love you. I no longer feel like I have to tell you, but I like to remind you regularly how special you are to me. There was no one before you and there will be no one after you, and I know that Sean would like to make his little comments so I acknowledge that burning need before moving on." Our guests chuckled and so did I. I glanced to him, watching as he shook his head and silently flicked the British bird. "I have never been in love before. I will admit, at first it was terrifying. I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same way. I was afraid some celestial force would come along and take you away from me...and much later, it almost did. Here, now, today, and every day past and future I have vowed, do vow and will vow to be present with you as I have. I made your mother a promise that I would take care of you, and I intend to uphold it until my dying day and if our gods allow, beyond that. Whether I am killing for you or intending to die for you does not matter, because your very presence brings me bliss. Gory Diana Fangtell, I have no words for you. They have not written a word capable of beholding you. If there is such a thing as perfection...it is you."

"Aww," Draculaura whimper-sniffed.

My gaze fell to the floor to keep the tears at bay, but they came against my will. My makeup no longer mattered as I wiped them away, trying desperately to keep my composure before I fully allowed myself to fall apart. The pieces of the puzzle of my self did not fit. They never had. They needed the pieces of him to connect them, and only together would we be whole. He brushed his thumbs across my cheeks, releasing my hands to cup my face.

"I don't know what to say that can possibly match that," I almost sobbed. "I love you. You fulfill the basic needs that let me think of people other than myself, and I don't want to bring myself up now. You make me happy; really, truly happy. I don't feel like anything in the world has kept its worth now that you've made it so much more valuable." I lived in a world of art and knowledge. I knew the truth and the real worth of everything on earth. I had done a lot of growing up in these past few months, and I was thrilled to admit it was all his fault. "You make my life worth living, Abraham Liam Devein. I may write, but I will never pretend to compare myself to your poetry. You give my words meaning. You give me meaning. There hasn't been a day in three years and nine months when I've forgotten that, and I can say with absolute certainty that there will never be."

A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes before fading off. He squeezed my hands, "I should've said that."

I shrugged and drew myself a bit closer, "I know."

Charlie got up and practically forced his way between us to put the wedding bands in sight. Natasha rolled her eyes; she'd probably told him to be standing the whole time. I kissed his curly hair and squeezed him into my side, making his cherubic cheeks flush. Bram lifted the band for my finger and slipped it on fluidly. It settled against my engagement ring with a sense of completion. He kissed them both, murmuring against my skin, "And with this ring, I thee wed."

I lifted his band and slipped it on his finger before clasping his hand to my heart. "I've always wedded you, we're just making it official."

He broke into a wide smile. There was a soft pat as a book was closed and I sensed the retreat of the priest before Charlie pulled away. "You may now kiss your bride, Lord Devein."

From outside, our eavesdroppers made themselves known with cheers and the sudden striking up of Irish dance from old instruments. My arms slipped around his neck, his hands settling at my waist. "May I, Lady Devein?"

"Am I ever going to deny you that?" I teased.

His hand slipped upward, pressing firmly against the center of my back. His lips pressed to mine, gently at first, but quickly descended into molten devotion. There was dampness on my cheeks, from he or I, I wasn't entirely sure, but I was breathing in a purer air. The light was just a little brighter, the flowers a little more fragrant in the world I had stepped into. The shadows were made for people like us, the outcasts of the world that took up the light as if it belonged to them.  
Just as he had vowed, we had reclaimed the sunlight for our own. We had reclaimed the world for ourselves. All of the world was at our mercy, whether they knew it or not. He was kissing me and I had already proven everyone and everything wrong. Nerds fell in love. The depressed found joy. Jackson was bawling and Ruth had given him a tissue, and as Charlie slid the bouquet in my hand, I threw it unceremoniously. There was a thump and I broke away only to turn and look at the shocked expression on Natasha's face.

Vinnie burst into laughter, "Nailed it, babydoll!"

"Right in the forehead," Sean commented, grinning.

I glanced to Bram and shook my head, "I'll never quit my day job for sports."

He chuckled before nodding, "That would be a good idea."


	71. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

The sticky heat of late summer welcomed us back to Salem from our trip across Europe and most of the subsequent Northern Hemisphere. Sean had remained in town for the summer, doing building projects here and there with the patriarch of the Wolf family and his eldest son and adding on to the De Nile mansion- or so he wrote. When we returned, the work on it had been obvious, but it still dwarfed ours and I was sure that Sean would see to that so long as he was building.

Not much changed in our absence. We had sent him lists of things to do to ensure the manor's upkeep and necessary preparation for our return, and the first thing we did when we returned home from our stop in Vancouver was to pause at a shelter and pluck a cocker spaniel from their ranks of soon-to-be-put-to-death animals. Naturally, with her parents out of the country, Gory was heiress to all of their assets. She immediately immersed herself in their plight and gave them a generous donation to ensure the little beasts received proper medical care and a much-prolonged lifetime with a greater chance for adoption. When she walked back to the car after almost an hour inside, she ducked in and cuddled the tiny pup to her chest, scratching his vaguely blond-curled head and murmuring, "He's an old boy, but he needs someone to take care of him for a while. They have some puppies in there too...we might have to stop in for one before they grow up in there."

I shook my head as we pulled out of the parking lot, "We're going to be late for Spectra's interview. Do you think you could possibly put it off a day?"

She smiled, caressing the soft face of the little dog as it nuzzled up to her. Our travels had sent many bags home ahead of us in the mail- gifts from China, Marrakech, India, England, Romania and Greece. The mementos from Italy had been a bit more personal, and had stayed with us for our Eastward travels. The unpacking had become the least of my worries as we pulled into the short, circular driveway of Spectra Vondergiest's home.

"Oh," Gory murmured, as if she'd awoken from a trance. "Look at that little fountain. Isn't that cute?"

To see her without a smile had become a foreign thing in these past months, though from the teasing over our "bridesmaid" and his family mere hours before, it seemed her happiness was only intensified. There was a childish part of me that hoped, when I observed what she saw, that I would retain a measure of the same euphoria. My eyes flickered to the ivy-laden empty fountain, full of still water and somehow fresh in its uneven bouts of moss and weathered glory. "It's lovely," I replied.

She rose, carrying the puppy with her, "Sabby's probably missed us so much."

I simply nodded and followed, locking the car with a click and a flash of the lights in our wake. She swept into the Edwardian interior of the Vondergiest living room, its Frankish armor and English color palate failing to dim her brightness. In her lacy little black gown, she sunk onto the plum colored couch and beamed at our hostess in her seat beside Frankie Stein and opposite the alpha of the formerly introductory pack, Romulus Moon. The windows were open, allowing the great, heavy shades to billow their white underbellies outward like a second set of ghosts.

"It's so cozy, Spectra," she gushed, resting our new companion on her lap, "If we ever need to refurnish, you must tell me where you went."

The ghost girl brightened and shifted a bit, "I just finished up my interview with Romulus and Frankie, maybe you guys would like to go a little one-on-one?"

Frankie and Spectra inhabited the sofa across from the couch. I had half expected Gory to perch on the arm in her restlessness, but her comfort was both soothing and understandable after just returning home. Romulus, however, sat with his curly hair mussed back and a black shirt straining over exerted muscles. Torn jeans dipped into old shoes, and for no sake but my wife's did I refrain from throwing him a bit of money to buy new clothes. He was restless, fussing with the silver ring around his thumb.

"That's a nice little band," I commented, "Heirloom?"

"Abbey," he replied, sitting back. The light conversation seemed to put him a bit at ease, and I leaned forward with my palm open upward. "Consider this my official apology and our official truce, old sport."

The corner of his mouth twitched and he clasped my hand in his, "Alright, old man."

She shook her head at my smile, conflicted by the girls' giggles. Spectra turned to me, her dark hair fluttering about her face with the sheen of violet attributed to ectoplasm. "So Bram, tell me what exactly began all this."

"I'd have to write you a novel," I replied with a smirk. "Honestly, it's not a story to be abridged. The highlights, however, come from a past that we no longer belong to."

"And would you say that being here in Salem, at Monster High, would've contributed to this new life?" Her eyes were bright despite being so dark, warm and alive despite her death. I glanced to my wife and watched her caress the soft fur of the spaniel on her legs. Both of them, so soothed, calmed me. I clasped her free hand in my own and caressed the rings in the interlacing of our fingers. "It did directly."

"Tell me about that," she teased.

"A regular _Interview With The Vampire,_ isn't it?" Gory teased, her mind clearly elsewhere. I caressed her fingers in my own, staring at the lovely little bands on her hand before lifting my gaze to their faces. "Coming from an all-vampire school wasn't easy. We were rude, and we thought we had proper justifications for our tensions. From the beginning of this...uprooting from Belfry Prep, I had one goal in mind. That was to make the woman I love happy in a house of her own, with everything her heart desired. I proposed to her when I knew we were leaving the campus. Not many of us stayed together. We split into our own family units, we made our own lives and embraced our own futures. As much as my parents would love it if one of their children became a foreign diplomat to restore our political ties, they realize that I am an artist and my brother is an architect, and we are the lords of the Devein line regardless of what we do."

"Life used to be about business," Gory replied, squeezing my hand and shifting slightly to speak to Spectra herself, "I had intended to make a name for myself as my father and my grandfather had done. My father became quite the business mogul, and short of becoming a queen, I didn't know how to upstage him. Somehow, once our mortality had been reaffirmed, I decided that I frankly didn't care. The Fangtell men are the Fangtell men, and I've always seen myself as more of a Devein anyway. Things have changed." She paused, sat up a bit and smiled directly at Frankie, "If we're going to be the face of vampire-kind, we're going to do it properly. We're educated, we're united, and we know what we intend to do with our lives. We may not be perfect, but...if the eyes of the world are going to be on Salem, we're completely equipped for it."

Spectra beamed and clicked her tape recorder off, leaning back in her seat to look at us. A stray spark passed in an arc of electricity from one of Frankie's bolts to the other. Romulus just lounged with a small smile. "You know," Spectra began, "if you decided to write down what happened, I'd get you published. I'd even advertise on the blog."

I glanced to Gory, "She's more of the writer. She thinks I speak poetry, but she's the one who knows absolutely everything."

She rolled her eyes modestly. I slipped my fingers from hers to wrap my arm comfortably around her shoulders and tug her just a bit closer. Her eyes lifted and lips quirked into a wicked little smile that absolutely stirred my heart. "I love you," I reminded her.

She placed her hand on my knee and pressed her lips to mine gently, "I know. I love you too."

...

Sean had been packed up and waiting for hours, leaving takeout in the den for us and giving us a hurried greeting before rushing off to get on the road. He had a job in Portland starting up and he did not want to be a moment late. I brought in our bags while she socialized our companions. Upon my arrival upstairs, Sabbath and Winston were sharing the bed like king and queen of our castle.

"I had no idea you'd done so much online shopping," I teased, glancing to the boxes she unpacked and the books and various other things she stacked on the desk. Half of it had international postmarks from the trip, but some had obviously been ordered for our arrival.

"Hush," she replied without bothering to give me a look. I laughed, placing our electronics and personal effects on the desk while she rooted through boxes and placed things in piles. Clothes sat in the basket to be washed, a new sunhat perched precariously on the back of the desk chair and a handful of books graced the edge of the desk. I bumped them to safety before grasping her hips and gently pulling her closer, "Take a break. Come have dinner with me." Her ivory skin was smooth and soft. I tugged the sleeve of her dress down a bit and kissed the skin I exposed, burying my mouth against her neck and grinning at the flush of warmth that reached her face. "In a minute," she murmured, clasping the fingers of one hand through mine and raising mine. I brushed her hair aside, kissing her with increasing heat and grinding my hips against her backside. She sighed, "Bram..." I traced my fangs against her skin and she withdrew, her eyes warm and full of adoration, "Bram."

With a sigh, I waited for whatever she had to do to be done, but she just smiled. Without releasing my hand, she placed the neatly folded cotton into my hand, and finally withdrew to finish unpacking. She gathered the boxes as I unfolded the cotton and placed them by the door, returning her eyes to me with amusement and delight.

"I was thinking Desmond or Zofie."

It took me a moment to fully process what I was holding and that it wasn't for Natasha. There were a few boxes left, mostly from our travels, but she didn't move for them. I placed the little frog-decorated one-piece in the center of both of my hands, cradling it as if it would break. "I can't breathe," I muttered. She laughed, crossing the room to gently take my face in her hands, "I don't need you to, I just want you to say something."

I was about to be much less of a man than my father. My eyes were threatening to tear. "We're going to have a baby."

She nodded, that tiny smile still on her lips. We had a family. It wasn't just the two of us in our little palace, we had two familiars and a child on the way. I repeated my words in disbelief with growing excitement. She nodded, catching my hand and pressing it gently to her stomach, "I knew by Italy."

"And you let us keep going?" I murmured, caressing her stomach and pulling her close to me.

"I don't want to deprive them of culture." Her eyes danced with her own teasingly selfish motive that had quite a bit to do with herself and our child. I shook my head and kissed her warm lips fully.

Returning the kiss for only a moment, she withdrew and met my eyes, "I'm not changing any plans just yet. We can do this. We can make this work, I promise. One of us can do day classes and one of us can do nights for college, and next year is just senior year, it's not like we'll have homework."

"I trust you," I replied. I did trust her. I had the utmost faith in her. Suddenly, I withdrew and grasped her hands, beaming from ear to ear, "Why didn't you tell me an hour ago? We could've told Sean! I have to tell my parents! Holy shit, baby, we're going to be _parents!_" The reality struck like a meteor and lit the entire world in a light that refused to fade. She laughed, the happiness in her eyes promising far more than finishing school and raising a child.

Happiness and intelligence together were a rarity, as Hemingway had once said, and we had gone on a slope of our lives. Childhood joy descending to a bottom that we hit by Belfry Prep, some aspects of bottom lower than others, and now we had returned to a joy that was childish in its own pure and innocent way. We were going to live happily ever after. It was the most overused of cliches, but it was true. It wasn't the end, but philosophy was always changing from one man to another. And while childhood had come to an end long ago, its official end had dawned at our wedding. Now, we were just setting forth to begin.

_Fini_

_A/N- A touch of Italian for my Gory-muse. Alright, official announcement time. The schedule for the foreseeable fanfiction future is as follows:_

_Tomorrow, I am beginning the sequel to Love Bites, Carpe Noctem. It will take place much after this and has the potential to be longer. After Carpe Noctem, I intend to write Moonrush- the sequel to White Wolf. After Moonrush, the yet untitled and much anticipated Radcliffe Way sequel (that is very likely to end up named after a Fall Out Boy/PATD/Pierce the Veil song at the moment.) Also at some point, I need to finish Lone Wolf, but that's another thought for another day. Until tomorrow, my pretties._


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